


Reflections of a Time Lord: A New Start

by HelenaHermione



Series: The Time Lord Chronicles [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Doomsday, Runaway Bride, Season/Series 03 (?), Series 6 (minor), Smith and Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-03-25
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaHermione/pseuds/HelenaHermione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble first meet after the departure of Rose, but as the Doctor struggles with his feelings of loss, and annoyance with this strange woman, he is being watched by the future. And then he meets Martha Jones.</p><p>Takes place with end of Series Two/start of Series 3, hopefully will go beyond. Mostly a viewpoint/retrospective story, with thoughts from the Time Lord and other characters that surround him; however, it does change some things up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published on fanfiction.net. Based on previous attempt at this fanfic; might include some new stuff. The Doctor reflects upon himself and his new situation as he tries to get used to things after Doomsday. Other characters think as well. (I don't how many chapters there are going to be, still in progress; I'm just going to type in a random number--like 20. Might develop more of a series with this work, or continue on the story in other segments if I reach the end of these chapters.)

  
**Chapter 1: Stand**   


"Rose Tyler-"

And then he faded away.

 _The Doctor's words caught in his throat. The supernova had fizzled out—and the gap had closed; he had lost the connection. The TARDIS was just floating in the darkness of space once more; the only other lights came from distant stars thousands of light years away._

 _He was an_ idiot _. How could he—how could they have wasted time like that, jabbering on without anything to say-except for what was most important being left unsaid? They wasted time, and the power of a supernova, just for-small talk. He was a Time Lord, and he was better than that-wasn't he?_

 _Wondering where they were, what was going on, and telling her how she and the rest of them were dead back on their planet-small talk. Just small talk compared with-he almost considered going out to find another dying star, right then and there, in the hope that he could re-establish contact—just in case- but no; he couldn't do that. Wouldn't be right; wouldn't be fair; stupid responsibility. Too much risk involved when he would have collapsed both universes, wouldn't he?_

 _Too much messing about changed things. If he played around too much—'boom' goes everything. Every once and awhile was all right, even 'healthy' for the universe, but if he changed things too much-one supernova might help the universe. Two supernovas, too close together—one supernova would clear out the old star, make way for another, and let its energy spread out into the universe-almost beautiful._

 _But a second one too fast, too soon—could wipe out the whole galaxy wherever it was, and that would be catastrophic. Not to mention that 'universes-collapsing' deal..._

 _It wasn't worth blowing up a whole other star, was it? Just to say-_

The Doctor stood, the incandescence of the walls flickering slightly as he gasped-trembling slightly, with the time rotor's pumping paused. It was almost as bad as being cut off from Rose when the void closed. Except that—at least he had the chance to say something. Even if he had ruined it.

And at least she was still alive—and not really dead. He had seen her, standing there, and had spoken to her—he hadn't imagined that part where Pete had grabbed her just before the void swallowed them whole. They were still alive. And Rose would live-she would live without him. Wouldn't she?

He hated to think of her wasting her life. She was brave, and—intelligent, and—she had a decent life, Mickey, and her mum and dad, and the baby brother, and-Torchwood; he shuddered to think about that part, but at least 'Defender of the Earth' had a nice ring to it. She would live a nice long time, he hoped, and he-he would go on; as always.

He had been so grief-stricken to see her standing there in front of him, with hope in her heart yet pain as well at seeing him and not being able to touch him—and he couldn't feel her as well. He had a hard time just keeping it in, even smiling, when he felt like crying every time he spoke. They were just too far away-too disconnected. And they couldn't talk much, they tried, he knew, they tried to say things that mattered—even the small talk was just a way of holding out hope

And the moment she had said that-what he had most wanted to hear, in some way, and yet what he had not wanted to hear-he wanted...his heart broke then. He couldn't swallow. "Quite right, too," had been stupid to say, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Except—"And I suppose-if it's my last chance to say-Rose Tyler-"

And that was it—there wasn't anymore. He couldn't finish it. "And I suppose-if it's my last chance to say-"weren't very great starts, but not to say-it just ruined it. She just faded away from him, and he was standing there, alone in the console room, the words caught in his throat, and he was gasping, gaping, wanting to say it even now, but he couldn't, he just couldn't. And he throbbed, everything throbbed, it was just—empty and alone; the lack of Rose. His mouth opened and closed, lips trembling as a tear dripped down from his eye.

It was like-a loss that he couldn't even mourn properly, for she was still there-waiting for him to come back, perhaps, and-there wasn't a chance; was there? No, no chance, but he would always feel like waiting for her as well, knowing that-somehow he was still connected to her. And he would always feel like that.

He couldn't turn his back completely on her-no matter how hard he tried. She was his friend, but more than that-she was his companion; the first companion he had so soon after having lost everything on Gallifrey.

It seemed as if the whole TARDIS might collapse. He would float away, out into the universe, and-that was it; that was the show. And he had blown was the last 'big bang', and he had accidentally left before the final curtain call.

The Doctor lowered his head slightly, staring down at the metal floor-if he collapsed onto his knees, that would bruise his kneecaps. And the palms of his hands would be scratched by the grooves of the grating as he caught himself. Then his knuckles would be crushed as he pounded his fists again and again on that floor—what a fit.

The Doctor stood; even now, he would not give in to temptation-or grief.


	2. The New Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna appears on the scene--oh boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to keep the same chapters as I had in FanFiction, same lengths, for the most part. Might edit a little, but not too much. Anyway, here is the start of RB and end of Dooms as I saw it--I could only get one scene in at this time, as it was a pretty big, very important scene. I kept some dialogue from the original, but added some of my own. Start of the real diversion from canon.

**The New Arrival**

The Doctor covered his eyes, both trying to wipe away his tears and rub his forehead. He was exasperated with himself, and trying to get to grips with everything that had just happened-it had been a long day. And he had ruined it, or something like that.

Getting in touch with a supernova waiting to happen had taken a lot of time, scurrying back and forth between galaxies, choosing the right star that would not cause too much damage if it was hurried along—he could have been quicker about it, yeah, but he would have risked too much.

He had not slept much the night before-if at all-after what had happened yesterday; with Rose gone into the void, into the other universe if he had seen it right. Perhaps he had worried most of all that he had been seeing things-that he had actually seen Rose fall into the void, and had convinced himself otherwise.

In fact, he could not think if he had eaten anything at all recently; he was hungry and thirsty, that much he knew. And not even seeing Rose could staunch his hunger and thirst when he could not touch her.

He just wiped off as much of his pain and suffering as he could, inhaled, and then went back to work-or a semblance of work-looking around at his TARDIS; hoping that getting back into the routine might settle things down. He had to see that he had not ruined anything, amplifying the signal to reach Rose in a more 'solid' form-ha, he might as well have kept it at the 'ghost' setting. Maybe that would have let him talk a little bit more, if he had kept it at low power, but no, it was the crack-the crack that had let him seep through; the cracks were all closing, all sealed, and that was the last one.

The last one; wasn't there-he looked up. The emptiness had been disturbed. He had been alone, all alone in that great big room with the blue-green lights, but then-the color had changed.

And he was not alone.

A golden glow had filled the room-and the room had changed. It was still the same room, but now brighter, more visible-as if the darkness of night had been lifted away. It was an island submerged in the sea, risen to the surface of sunlight.

A wedding dress-a lady in white; he could not help staring, his sadness temporarily gone away as he was confused. "What?" She turned around—a lady in white with red hair and a big veil, not too bad looking, but she looked confused and shocked as well. "What?" He said again.

"Who are you?" She said in a London accent-London accent?

"But-"

"Where am I?" She continued.

"What?"

"What the hell is this place?" She shouted.

"What?" He said again-it was all he could do, he couldn't think, it was just-impossible, just impossible...

"Stop talking like that!" She yelled. She was scared, he could tell, but fear-fear made you fight or flee, and she was fighting-with her words.

"Wh-" He stopped himself before he said another word, knowing that she was going to slap him before too long if he kept up like this.

"What the hell is this place," She muttered, this time a little bit softer now as she looked around and got her bearing, trying to figure out-"What's that-thing?" She said, pointing at the console, and reaching out—

"No no!" He shouted, lunging forward to try and block her. "Please don't touch that!" He said as she flinched away from him.

"Get your hands off me, you-stick figure!" She said.

"Yes, ma'am," He said, sighing to himself. "Just promise me you won't do that again."

"All right, I won't, but you—you've got some explaining to do." She insisted.

"Okay, okay, okay," He said, trying to breathe again now that he was trying to settle himself down. But he was still trying to deny her existence, even though she was still standing there right in front of him-as big as life, and all in white, and he was talking to her as well as she was talking to him; was he dreaming this?

What a nightmare-denial was the first stage of grief, he knew, but it was also the first stage of dealing with any impossible situation, as he had soon figured out years ago. He was trying to deny what had just happened, but denying it got him nowhere-here he was, and here she was; now how did this sort of thing happen?

He was getting scared-it was all too much, just too much for him to handle after the last few days-couldn't a man just mourn in peace? Couldn't he just have five seconds-five seconds-without somebody turning up (in his TARDIS, no less) and wanting help, or an explanation? He had to get her out of here.

Meanwhile, she was trying to deal with this situation by shouting-and being 'demanding'; that got her nowhere either. She couldn't believe him, no matter what he tried to say-she just wouldn't listen to him and let him explain.

She was getting angry, and-being a real bride, she was turning into one of those bad, angry Godzilla brides-calling him Dumbo! Dumbo was not very nice name to call him; he might have a big nose, and big ears, but-forget it, forget it, this woman was not Rose.

This woman could never be Rose, or replace her in his heart. He had to get rid of her, and figure things out for himself. He was running around the console, trying to escape her and this situation as he checked the controls, making sure that they were ready to return back to Earth.

This woman had already figured things out-or thought she had. She accused him of kidnapping and drugging her, and threatened to sue him-was that all these people thought about when they saw things, or experienced things out of the norm? That they had been drugged?

He needed sleep. Tired from all of the nightmares he had of Rose falling and falling, and then he had worked all day long trying to find the perfect dying star-it was just too much for him.

It was all too much for her as well, but she was trying to think things through like a normal human of the 21st century would do. She was human-or seemed to be, at any rate; her behavior was appalling, and she was trying to act rational, but she could not be completely rational in this situation when she believed only what she wanted to believe, and was getting emotional.

She was crying-or on the verge of crying-blathering on about this and that while he was trying to sort things out; and he felt like crying too, but not yet, at any rate. She seemed to be out of control—unable to control things, okay, so this situation definitely was not created by her; not deliberately anyway.

And he was going to have to face—she was heading for the door; the door of impossible things for her. He tried to stop her, but then she opened it up-and she was _speechless_ ; speechless for the first time since she had arrived on broad his ship. Had it only been two minutes since she had first arrived, and spoke? Felt like an eternity to him.

And now she was looking at eternity for her. He stood there, and let her soak it all in; the scene was indescribable. The heart of a supernova was a beautiful sight for those that saw it-one of the most unforgettable ever.

He still remembered the first time that he had seen a supernova-many years ago...all of her words were gone; a _blessing_. How could she believe this, except to think: this is _real_. This is- _space_.

He had chosen this star because it was far enough from any inhabited planets, and didn't seem to have any effect on any neighboring regions—just a pretty sight exploding unseen, releasing all of this pent-up energy that nobody would use or miss. He just had to use it for himself.

It must seem so strange to her, what she saw, and frightened her even more by what she had to come to grips with-and so he decided to try and explain things for her, or as much as he possibly could; just to make it easier on her.

Nobody would have explained things for him, though. He just had to figure it all out on his own, starting when he was just a young lad-staring into the heart of the Time Vortex.

She asked him pretty reasonable questions, even though words did not help her at all, and he introduced himself, and he finally got her name-Donna. A lovely name for a-well, not so lovely person, but he had to grant that he had caught her at a bad moment.

He asked if she was human, just to make sure he was correct in his assumption, and—well, she found out that he wasn't; took that pretty well, considering where they were. He tried to examine her, tossing aside one theory after another with a closer look, but then-she slapped him! Apparently she had dealt enough with his nonsense, and he had invaded her personal space; why was he always the one getting slapped? He had

"Get me to the church!" She shouted.

" _On time_ ," He sang softly under his breath. "Yes ma'am," He added as he went over to the controls.

Soon they were off-gone from that part of space and time where a new star would form in about several hundred million years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this.


	3. The Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've got a problem to solve, and a lot of things to catch up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We go on more into Runaway Bride, and deeper into the mystery of what's really going on here, or what's about to happen here when things get weirder...

**Chapter 3: The Problem**

_Theta tapped the screen of his neuronic tab with a light-pen-biting his tongue as he stared at a problem that just would not go away no matter how hard he attacked it. He had tried solving it backwards and forwards, finding the root of the problem, or viewing it from above, but no matter which way,_ nothing _seemed to work._

" _What's the matter, Theta?" He heard and looked up to see Clarascimille, one of the older students, standing over him._

" _I'm trying to solve this riddle of an equation. Can you help me?" He asked._

" _Of course," She said, sitting down right next to him on the ground. "Now, did you try adding that integer?" She asked, pointing at a number on the screen once she had viewed the problem._

" _Yes, I did, and it all came out uneven." He said._

" _What about that cluster?" She pointed at a knot of complicated words, symbols, and numbers off to the edge of the screen._

" _It could be considered part of the solution, but I don't think there's enough of a solid base connecting them to the final problem." He said._

" _What about the Nth degree—does that have anything to do with it?" She asked._

" _The Nth—why, yes...yes, it does!" He laughed. "And if we subtract that part-" He quickly did the math on the screen, the numbers and letters whizzing about in a cloud of representation for the figures._

" _Then you have the solution." Clarascimille said._

" _Yes!" Theta laughed again, and said, "Thank you, thank you, Clarascimille!"_

" _You may call me Millie." She told him._

" _Millie..." He said, staring at her-"Thank you."_

 _Suddenly, a figure burst upon the scene, jumping about and laughing as he whizzed about the yard. He came over to the pair, and knocked over Theta's neuronic tab from his hands, laughing right in Theta's face. He darted off again, and left the scene of his crime._

" _Koschei!" Clarascimille cried out at the other student before she shook her head. "Oh, he is a devil, all right."_

 _Theta looked down at the ground, staring at his broken tab, and getting teary-eyed. Clarascimille turned to him, and told him, "You are an angel, Theta." She kissed him on the forehead. "Don't you ever change."_

 _Theta said nothing, still staring down._

She picked up Rose's jacket. The Doctor stared at it as she accused him of kidnapping other women. The jacket was purple like the supernova—sad and alone.

"That's my friend's." He said.

"Where is she, then, popped out for a space walk?" She asked sarcastically.

"She's gone." He said.

"Gone where?" She asked.

"I lost her." He replied.

* * *

"Well, you can hurry up and lose me!" Donna cried, and nearly threw the purple jacket down on the ground in frustration—furious with him and this whole situation as he tapped those buttons and stared at a screen, or something—she had no idea what he was doing with the controls on board his ship. If they were controls—pretty weird controls for such a weird spaceship.

He wasn't even looking at her. Just ignoring her, it seemed, as if-what was the matter with him? She was angry, and he—her anger died down as she wondered...

"How do you mean lost?" She finally asked, realizing that he was acting strangely—strangely for him, anyway, sad and stern at the same time—and she wondered if he was grieving or something.

He, however, would not answer her-just looked at her with a sternness that was mad and bleak at the same time, a penetrating stare that got into her very soul as he went around and snatched away his—friend's—jacket from her, dragging it away as he announced their destination.

"Right, well, you've got some explaining to do." She muttered half-heartedly to herself, but she did not say so loud enough for the Doctor to hear. She did not want to upset the Doctor right now, especially when he was in control of this spaceship piloting her back to Earth, or so she hoped, and they were _this_ close to parting—she would be glad to get rid of him.

She did want to know a little bit more about him, though, and this girl- _friend_ who was 'lost', but she did _not_ want to know too much; she was afraid of what she might find out. She did not want to get involved in his life, whatever sort of life it might be, just go back home and start her life anew-leaving home, and moving in with Lance! What a fantastic sort of life that would be.

What sort of spaceship would have an engine room like this? She wondered to herself in the last few minutes she had left with the Doctor-if it was an engine room. She could imagine this spaceship she was in being giant-like a Starship from the Enterprise series.

Her granddad always used to like watching that show; then he-gosh, she hoped she got to see him again. He was really sick with the Spanish flu today, or else he would have been there to see her wedding-she missed him, and hoped that he would be feeling better soon.

Mind you, granddad probably would have loved all of this-chatting it up with the Doctor, even, but she just wanted to go back to Earth, get married, and find out more about H.C. Clements. And she did not want to see the rest of the spaceship. There was enough going on where she was without her getting involved in all of this.

"Here we are," The Doctor said after an unsettling bump, and turned towards the doors.

"That's it?" Donna said, rushing past him. "Where are we? Surely we can't be in London, your spaceship probably wouldn't even fit-"

She looked around, and realized that she was in the wrong part of town, in an alleyway, and then-right in front of her when she turned around to face the spaceship was a tall blue box...the Doctor rushed back inside, mumbling about recalibrating or something, and she was staring, trying to grasp the exterior of the ship with the interior-not so big as to accommodate all of the space inside—and she thought, no, no, she was having none of it...

* * *

Even though he wanted to be rid of her as well, the Doctor followed Donna because there was nowhere else to go to learn about the problem he needed solved—namely her, and what she was doing on board his ship; and he had to deal with her calling him a Martian. What was up with that?

He soon learned that it was Christmas Eve, and looked about at all of the decorations and holiday spirit (all right, holiday _spirit_ was not quite the right word he would have used to describe all of the people rushing about on errands around him-busy shopping and driving their cars, without any regard for their fellow man (or woman, as Donna was trying to flag down a cab))—on display. It made him think that he was missing out on a lot, not being able to pick up on what was going on around him without Donna telling him that it was Christmas Eve.

Of course, they were in a bit of a rush, he told himself as they ran to a phone box so that she could call the church. (Ha, a phone box, a real phone box.) And he was flustered enough by what was going on with them not to notice anything around them except what they were doing, but still-he certainly wasn't very jolly today as he went to an ATM- not jolly enough to celebrate Christmas.

But he was definitely getting used to the idea of spending Christmas Eve on Earth, he thought to himself as he waited for the ATM. Lately it seemed he was getting quite familiar with the holiday, as every third or fourth trip it seemed-oops, it's Christmastime again! He jumped up and down from foot to foot, impatient; he was getting sick of Christmas, to tell you the truth.

In the past, he had somehow managed to 'skip' the holiday by going somewhere when the holiday was not taking place; it was inadvertent at times when he had done it, but now he just felt like intentionally skipping Christmas and saving himself the time of aggravation, stress, and grief. He was lost without Rose, and Donna was no help.

He wasn't used to there being no snow, though, he reflected to himself as he got up to the ATM to make his transaction. He had gotten the idea that it always snowed on Christmas, (probably through the media that advertised the holiday,) but without any snow-well, where was the fun in Christmas? You had to make your own fun, apparently.

He got his money-through fraud, really-and looked up to see-Robot Santas. Robot Santas playing 'God Rest You Merry Gentlemen' and he was dismayed—dismayed to see them here, bringing tidings of evil and power brewing to bring about the end of all things good and bright.

He knew this then, and he knew that Donna was in the middle of it all. There was no doubt about it, if there was anything that made him think something evil was going on, Donna was about it. And she was getting into a cab-driven by a Robot in a Santa mask, why couldn't she see—didn't she think it was suspicious? Of course not, she was still new to this whole mess.

And he was left here to deal with the Santas and their Horns of Destruction-Horns blasting death rays, what nonsense, but deadly nonsense, and so he used a distraction. A very expensive distraction, but he could afford it for now.

He ran off before they could catch him-he had a cab to catch.

* * *

A person stood off to the side, watching the scene with the chaos of the crowd shrouding him.

"The problem is an equation has to be defined before it can be solved." He said, looking over at his companion. "His case-or, you might have to say, _my_ case-was that he was distracted. Too much going on, you see, for him to pay attention to what was most important in solving this problem-defining it. If he had captured one of those robots, and dissected it, he could have figured out much sooner who was involved."

"But he-you needed Donna to know about H.C. Clements." His companion said.

"Yes, well, he could have asked around-after she was gone." He said, looking in the direction her cab had gone. "He could have found out where she worked from the people who had attended her wedding-or by some other means..." He said darkly, staring down.

The companion sighed. "Back to the drawing board," She said, walking off with the 'doctor' following after her; the Ghosts of Christmas Future were coming together with the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Breather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor's got to catch a cab--and then relax. Donna and the Doctor get more deeply 'involved' with each other--or do they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't add this to FanFiction.net--some weird trouble--so, for the first time, an entirely new unpublished piece of my work exclusive to an Archive of Our Own! Tell me what you think!

**Chapter 4: Breather**

"Why does it always have to be me that saves-why couldn't she be more-" The Doctor groaned to himself as he reached the TARDIS, and said, "Work it out, work it out on your own! Calm yourself down, pull yourself together, and get focused—you need to stick with the plan-whatever the plan is..." He sighed, and hustled himself inside the spaceship.

"First it was the Sycorax, and then-the Sycorax, could it be the Sycorax still?" He stopped, thinking aloud to himself on his way to the console. "No, they wouldn't do something so foolish-if they were still alive..." He sighed, and stared up at the ceiling. "Harriet Jones." He muttered to himself in a curse, shaking his head in disappointment before he continued on to the console, still talking.

"So, Sycorax gone, the Santas-Robot Santas still remained. I should have tracked them down." He muttered to himself, pulling some levers and twisting some knobs. "Robot Santas-still here, still on Earth, or somewhere near here, stranded or decided they didn't want to leave. Picked up by someone, or something, that wanted to use them—is this making any sense?" He asked himself as he flicked a switch and ran around to the other side.

"We need thrust, propulsion—how am I ever going to catch that cab if I don't get some movement?" He asked himself as he twisted a crank, winding up some rope. "Maybe tampering with gravity, that'll stop the weight bearing down on me..."

"So, they are being used-to keep track of...me?" He cried as he banged around a bit. "Makes sense—doesn't it?" He sighed and stopped himself a moment. "No, then why did they take Donna away? It was Donna they were after, not me, I was just in the way." He flicked a switch, and the TARDIS started up again. "They wanted to get rid of me after finding Donna, and taking her away. I wasn't a part of their plan—although did they recognize me?" He stopped and shook his head, holding on tight. "No, of course not, they're just robots—programmed to do whatever they're ordered to do, nothing more." He said, nodding as the TARDIS took off.

He ran around once they were up in the air. "Fish in a pond, pilot fish, that's all they are, feeding off the specks left on sharks' skins after a frenzy." He smiled as he pulled the screen around. "Speaking of frenzy-I must have wasted over a million pounds just then, with all of those humans jumping about." He checked the data. "Too much money wasted, really, I could have used some of that money myself in the 21st century, before they stopped producing all of those bank notes—then I wouldn't have to ask to borrow money all of the time." He sighed as he spotted Donna on the screen. "I am not a thief—not really-I should be glad I didn't take any of that money."

"Highway-midday-I am bound to get spotted for sure," The Doctor muttered to himself as the TARDIS started exploding around him. "Come on, old girl, you can do it!" He cried, banging around. "I've seen you do tougher stuff before—this is nothing compared to traveling through E-Space-" The TARDIS banged down on the roadway-"Or that White Void, which the Master of the Land controlled-methinks, though there was the Master Brain within that Land of Fiction-" The TARDIS had lifted up again, navigating its way through the lanes of cars.

"And you've been through The Void—into a parallel universe! You can do it!" He cried again, and then sighed as he started tearing up a bit of twine in his teeth. "All of this for a woman I don't even know-for a woman I don't even like very well-" He tied back the main lever. "She is one of the most loud-mouthed, rude women I have ever met, and believe me, I have only ever met one or two women worse than her!" He cried before going towards the TARDIS doors.

"Santa's a robot!" Donna said after yelling at each other about the door.

"I know!" The Doctor cried. "It's ridiculous! Now, you've got to jump!"

Donna sputtered about getting married, and he yelled, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm not supposed to be doing this!" Donna cried. "I'm not supposed to be—kidnapped by a robot on my wedding day, chased around town by a magic flying floating telephone box, and I'm definitely not supposed to be with you!" The car sped up before he got a chance to reply, and he chased after it, pulling hard on the lever with more sparks flying—the TARDIS was going to hate him for this.

What did she mean she wasn't supposed to be with him? Certainly she wasn't supposed to be with him, but they were in this together now, weren't they? He thought to himself as he got the TARDIS higher up off of the ground; she was with him, and he had to protect her, right? Right.

He knew that they were being seen; all of these people driving along couldn't miss him and his 'flying blue box'-no matter what sort of perception filters he had. They were banging on car roofs, for goodness sake! And if at least one of them had a camera in their phone—goodbye, secrecy; he should have done something to cloak the TARDIS better before doing this. He was being banged about as well, and was afraid of falling out of his own TARDIS, but he knew he was safe when he pulled himself up, and held himself steady by the TARDIS door. He wasn't about to fall out now, now that they had so much to do together.

"I know it's hard, but you've got to jump!" He said before trying to disable the robot.

"I'm in my wedding dress!" She cried a moment later; what was this? Was he in a dream, or a nightmare? "Yes! You look lovely! Come on!" He shouted. "I'm not getting paid to do this," He muttered to himself.

He held out his hands to her, and she hesitated, of course, before he said, "Trust me." He meant it. He wanted her to believe in him as he wanted to save her.

"Is that what you said to her? Your friend." Donna said. "The one you lost. Did she trust you?"

The Doctor hesitated, looking at her as he wondered—of course she would have thought—if he had not answered…what could he say to her? What could he say to her about the one he had lost, the one who had meant everything to him for a short while?

"Yes she did, and she is not dead, she is so alive, now jump!" He said. Donna was alive—Rose was alive; it had to be enough, it had to be—and it was. Donna took him at his word, and jumped into his arms—not very gracefully, mind you, and screaming, always screaming she was, as he fell backward into the TARDIS and she on top of him.

She was very heavy, pressing down on him, and he felt the air being choked out of him as he tried not to scream himself. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't cry—it was all very overwhelming, thinking about Rose and being reminded of her by—this woman who had caused so much trouble. Finally, he got up and the TARDIS doors closed as the TARDIS took off into the air.

"That was amazing!" She said. "That—was-" She slapped him.

"Ow! What was that for?" He asked.

"For giving me the biggest scare of my life!" She cried. "If you could have—piloted this thing closer-"

"It's not exactly-" He sighed. "It's not exactly the most efficient of vehicles-"

An alarm went off, and a fire ignited on the console. "A-wah-ah!" She cried like the siren. "What is that? What is—that thing doing?"

"It's not supposed to be—flying like this!" He said, shielding his eyes from the fire. "The TARDIS is supposed to go from Point A to Point B without being in actual space!"

"What?" She said.

"It doesn't move like a regular spaceship or vehicle does." He said, running to grab the fire extinguisher. "It doesn't deal well with friction or gravity or inertia-" Something snapped on the console. "It doesn't fly like a rocket! Not normally!" He said, removing the pin and starting to spray the console.

"Then—why did you-" She stared at him. "You saved my life. You came—you rescued me—you went all of this way, you flew, just to—why?" She asked.

"Why?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"You're not exactly the best type of man I would have expected to do a thing like this, and I haven't exactly been Little Miss Sunshine to you over here, have I?"

"No, I suppose not, I-" He laughed at the thought of this. "I'm not the best type of man? I don't—I don't know!" He cried. "I don't know why I'm doing this, but I just thought—I'm somehow responsible for this! For you-"

"And just what do you mean by that, Mister-Tighty-Whitey pants?" Donna said, eying him.

"I'm not—I'm not actually responsible for this, for you getting into my TARDIS and getting kidnapped by a Robot Santa, but they're after you, and I want to know why, and I want to stop them from finding you and using you-for whatever purpose! Because they are using you, I know; I know this is not normal. This is not natural. Something is wrong here."

"Something is wrong here is right." Donna said, shaking her head. "Too bloody right. I don't care for this anymore than you do—much less than you do—and I want to get out of this! But you're sticking around, and I-"

"We've got to land, the TARDIS can't take much more of this!" The Doctor said.

* * *

Donna Noble consulted her watch-the watch her grandfather had given her this morning, just before she left to go get married, the watch her grandmother had worn; it was 3:30. Way too late for the wedding. She sighed to herself, wishing she could have changed things as she looked out across the rooftop of this tall building they had landed upon while the Doctor put out the fire. She couldn't believe it.

They were on top of this building, looking out across Central London—she could barely see Chiswick from up here. There were so many buildings, so many people, and—she was alone on top of it all; with just the Doctor, and his smoking—'Tardis', or whatever that thing was called. She was getting used to that name.

St. Paul's Cathedral, and all of the other landmarks—she had driven past some of them on her way to work at H.C. Clements (Or else had gone under them on the Underground). Down on street level, she had been dwarfed by everything that towered over her, and yet she was used to it, going along her way with everybody else-just another part of the crowd, one Londoner amongst so many. She wondered if she would ever be the same now.

Lance was waiting for her. So was her mum and dad, and everybody else, but for the moment, she was alone with the Doctor, and her thoughts; she wanted to be back home. She wanted to be at the wedding, but more than that, she wanted to go home. The wedding wasn't going to happen today, might as well try again some other day, when she wasn't in so much trouble.

She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, really-things just weren't the same. She thought they would be, but—this was just the beginning, wasn't it? She thought she was leaving it all behind her, him and that thing of his when she was riding away in the cab, but—it was just another start to this hare-brained adventure. She thought that she could do it, just forget him and get married as quickly as possible, but it was too late—she couldn't forget him. She had been saved by him.

What sort of man was he? Pardon, what sort of Martian—or whatever—was he? A good one? She hoped he was good; she hoped he meant what he said about helping her, or whatever—finding out what was going on here. She wanted to find out, but more than that, she—wanted an end to this.

"Sorry." He said.

"It's not your fault." She said.

"Oh—that's a change." He said, smiling weakly. She wanted him to feel better; she hoped she hadn't been too hard on him, before. She had a way of doing that, being hard on others when she had enough of dealing with trouble. She had faced a lot of trouble and aggravation in her time; she had had enough of it, and a very short temper to come out of it. At least she got something out of it, though.

He babbled something about timelines, when she thought out-loud about 'time machine', but she decided to say nothing about it—if there was any truth to what he said…no, she didn't want to risk it; she didn't want to erase anything about what had happened. Even if it was bad, at least she loved it—in some way.

They sat down on the edge of the rooftop, and he wrapped his coat about her—very gentlemanly of him, really; she wasn't used to such special treatment, even from Lance. The Doctor had some manners, when he wasn't being too condescending and rude, obnoxious about—oh, who was she kidding? She had some bad habits as well.

She complained about the coat because she didn't want to compliment the measure, thinking to herself that if she took no notice, or too little notice, he wouldn't think much about it. She got scared when he presented her with a ring, thinking he had gone too far in the gentleman manner—or was being rude—but then he had some excuse; he always had some excuse.

They talked about the Robot Santas, and she learned a little bit more—about what they were, and what sort of experience the Doctor had—was this something he dealt with? That spaceship over London? Did he have—some personal experience…he skimmed right over it when she came up with some lame excuse for missing it, but—she had been there; she had seen it.

She knew all about it but what had come abroad, and what had happened up there; was the Doctor up there? Then she had missed him.

* * *

The Doctor was dealing with this, but it was a hassle—his TARDIS almost blowing up and burning up was going to cause a lot more trouble for him later on, he could tell. But at least they were out of danger, for the moment, and enjoying a breath of fresh air—or as much fresh air as you could get high above London where the air pollution had been reduced in recent years, but not by much.

He could remember seeing London being constructed the first couple of times as Queen Boudica had burned it to the ground, then the Vikings came, and then the Great Fire—London had been reconstructed many times in the past. And all the while, it had not grown much, but now—now he could barely see the River Thames from up here in the heart of Central London, not too far away from St. Paul's Cathedral, as there were so many buildings in the way; he could not see the true blood-flow of London.

He was trying to reason with her, but she was being reasonable enough, something that surprised him a little as he was still coping with the upset she had given him. He felt like crying a little, thinking about that. He didn't know quite how to deal with her odd remark about 'the time machine'—he had to flub his way around that a little bit, just to feel like he wasn't lying to her; he couldn't go back and change things, no matter how much he wished he could. He swallowed, watching her settle down, and he settled down next to her—deciding he would enjoy this moment of calm as long as he could.

She was a bit rude to him about the coat, but that didn't bother him too much now as she was like that, and he was getting used to it; he just had to deal with it for now. He played around a bit, thinking it would lighten the mood, and she played along with him, too; he smiled at that, thinking he could see them getting along quite a bit. If worse came to worse, and they were stuck together, he could probably get her to come along with him and loosen up a bit more, maybe have some fun and enjoy the adventure—she was already questioning him about what had just happened, wanting to find out more about those Robot Santas.

He replied, and-it veered off into uncomfortable territory; he had to think about last year, and—all of the fun he had, all of the people-gone now, and it just wasn't the same. He wasn't the same anymore, and—he had to face that; he had to face being alone. He couldn't deal with that, and would not answer Donna's question about Rose, as instead he went back to her and the problems they had as these were the things he wanted to deal with now.

She seemed a bit miffed about something, but he would not acknowledge that; instead, he examined her, and categorized her as she complained about his labels, and demanded that he stop 'bleeping' her as "his friend might have punched him in the face" according to her own words. The Doctor, shocked, almost wished that he could have punched Donna right now.

She told him about her work and life, and he got to know her, thinking that she wasn't so bad, just another ordinary human creating her own tales, and experiencing things he never would have; he never would have met a woman over coffee. He was wondering if things were normal here, if things between Lance and Donna were perhaps too 'special' to be believed.

A story like that couldn't just develop all of a sudden, and if a story like that was true—she had her own details about what had happened, but he couldn't just believe it, not in the way she described it. Yet he couldn't call her out on that, thinking he had to go through with all of this.

'Keys' he thought to himself, keys had to open many things, hide many secrets, and for Donna to get involved—something had to be hidden here, and he was going to find out just what. "I'm not from Mars." He told her again as they had to get up, and be on their way—Donna told him about the reception, and they decided to check in there first to see if any of the guests were still around, and had anything to say about what had happened at the wedding that never took place.

* * *

The 'doctor' stood on the helipad, looking about-last time he had seen the rooftops of London, the sun had been replaced by his exploding Tardis. And the Tardis had flown over London soon after he had regenerated—changing its exterior a little bit, and changing its interior even more. He had to get used to this place; apparently he spent a lot of time here.

"Do you remember that place?" The companion asked, pointing in the direction where it was.

The 'doctor' nodded. "I had to go through it a couple of times, getting things right." He said. "Mind you—it was a close call."

The companion nodded. "I remember. Come along—doctor. We have to get you right."

He sighed. "Must you insist on—I'm fine." He said. "I just need a bit of a breather."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. (Now I have to take a breather myself.)


	5. Truth and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna and the Doctor are at the party when things get interrupted. And the Doctor is trying to find out the truth, while Donna is trying to keep her cool as she lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to hope this gets the conclusion to Runaway Bride in next chapter--right now, I have a lot to take care of, but I really wanted to get this part done.

** Chapter 5: Truth and Lies **

The Doctor was glad Donna was able to stave off any questioning, when they got to the reception hall and found that it was full of people from the wedding party who had witnessed the event of Donna’s disappearance, (yet had not thought, apparently, that it was enough of an event to ruin a perfectly good chance to party—humans) by crying. It was sort of unoriginal, but quite clever in her way—Donna apparently had some experience with avoiding any trouble by this tactic. And there were a lot of people who had wanted to know—Donna must have been quite overwhelmed, dealing with all of that, but she handled herself well.

 

The party hadn’t been so bad, once everyone had stopped worrying. It was actually quite fun, as he watched it from afar. Seeing all of the people dancing, the Doctor was amused by their antics, but he couldn’t forget why he was here as he asked to borrow a cellphone and look up H.C. Clements. He got all of the information he needed, and then some--Torchwood. Torchwood, that hated name that haunted him almost as much as Bad Wolf had.

 

Donna was involved with them, just like Rose was--another young woman lost to the force that had taken control of everything, trying to find out more about aliens, and destroy him as well. They had nearly destroyed him, yes, but no—he would not let them get involved this time. He would stand, and fight—fight what, exactly? Torchwood? Had Torchwood not been destroyed in the Battle of Canary Wharf? His enemy was not Torchwood this time, much as he would like to think—there was something else here; something far more sinister than that. Something…not of this Earth, perhaps. He had to think things through, decide if he wanted to get involved in another fight—for it would be a fight, there was no doubt about that. Whatever had taken control of H.C. Clements after Torchwood had left was bound to be powerful…

 

He looked at the faces in the crowd, examining them, even Donna—trying to decide if any of them were his actual enemy, his potential adversary. Nerys? Nope, even though Donna had talked about her, she wasn’t that bad—was she? Lance and Donna—hmm, he had to think about that one a bit. He looked about and spotted a woman who reminded him of Rose; the ghost of the woman he had--no, he did not even want to think about it.

 

He did not want to think—his heart was his, and his alone, and he could not forget her, but she was gone, gone far away where he could not reach her, could not touch her, could not even say—he did not want to think about it. He would forget her, he would try—and concentrate on what had to be done here. He would do what had to be done, and no more—no more Torchwood, no more Rose…

 

He spotted the cameraman, and knew that he had his first clue—his first piece of real solid evidence that he could use. He had asked some of the people here at the party about everything they could remember about what they had seen, but their descriptions had been vague and various enough that he just had to see for himself what had really happened—maybe the cameraman had caught it on tape…the Doctor saw it. He knew what it was, and recognized the particles—as Donna was screaming, she had been transported—by Huon particles. The type of particles—uh oh.

 

Here come the Robot Santas again…

 

***

Donna couldn’t stand being put on trial by all of those people, especially her mother—her mother was the worst of that lot, always being critical of everything she did. Even when she had announced that she was going to get married to Lance, her mother Sylvia had gotten excited, but then wanted to know everything about Lance, and whether or not he had good money, and how they were ever going to afford to pay for the reception and the wedding. Sylvia had gotten ahead of herself even before Donna had quite recovered from the engagement!

 

She had to cry just to deal with that now. At least it got Lance’s attention; he was hanging around Nerys way too much these days, hanging on her literally. The way he had been dancing with her when she walked in, she almost thought—never mind, Lance would never do a thing like that. He loved her, didn’t he? Ah, well, at least they were going to get married—once they had a chance to do things over properly.

 

“This wedding has been a nightmare,” Donna whispered to Lance.

 

“You said it.” He said, groaning to himself and laughing as well while she giggled. Lance always had a way of saying things that made her melt like butter in his hands.

 

Donna loved to dance—it was one of the few forms of exercise she ever got. Except for walking and, well, the occasional trip to the gym for some bicycle-riding and yoga practice, although she never got very far with the bicycling and got all twisted up in knots with yoga. Yoga was fun, though, when she wasn’t bending so much.

 

She had called her grandpa just a few minutes ago, telling him that she was all right. “You had me so scared, Donna my pet.” He said. “I had all of these calls from your mum, and then I called—where were you?”

 

“Never mind that, gramps.” She said, trying to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing, lying to him—she couldn’t tell him the truth about where she had been. “You just get some rest, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be home soon, after the party.”

 

She said that, and yet couldn’t believe—was it really over? She thought to herself. The Doctor had put that ring—oh, lord, she was going to have a hell of a time trying to explain that to Lance—on her finger, to ‘bio-damp’ her—energy, or whatever, so that the Robot Santas wouldn’t find her. Maybe it really was over; she could pray—suddenly, the Doctor was running right past her again, and she turned her head around to watch him go.

 

“Is something wrong?” Lance asked, looking concerned.

 

“No, it’s nothing,” Donna said, yet the look on the Doctor’s face—pure terror and fear and anger—just like when she was watching him try to save her…she knew it was not over yet.

 

Donna inhaled, trying to calm herself down, yet it was not over—she glowed, she held her hand up and it glowed a little.

 

“Donna?” Lance asked.

 

“I’m in trouble.” She said. As the Doctor called her name, running up to her, she managed to cool herself and stop the glow just before he reached her. She did not know she could do that.

 

She had been—on the verge of glowing just before—when she had been in that taxi cab, and knew that she was being kidnapped, and then—when the Doctor had been trying to save her…she had nearly glowed on those occasions, but had calmed herself in time. Yoga—blame yoga practice, breathe in and out. Of course, she had not been so calm, more like ‘out of control’ when she had been going down the aisle; maybe that was--? _Don’t be so ridiculous, Donna_ , she thought to herself; _Maybe it has absolutely nothing to do with that._

 

Her mum’s voice was always her ‘voice of reason’ in her own mind. It always seemed to reassure her that she was completely and totally wrong—about everything.

 

***

As the ornaments floated, the Doctor and Donna watched—the Doctor thinking to himself that maybe this was the weirdest, strangest thing he had ever seen just before almost certain death. Of course, he had ‘almost died’ so many times before that—well, floating ornament balls, okay, perhaps not at the top of the weirdest, strangest moments list—but it was certainly surreal. All of those people, staring up in awe, not horror—he had to think, in some part of himself, that humans were somewhat like sheep or cows being led to the slaughter. Pretty lights and sparkle—look out, ma’am, that ball is going to blast your head!

 

He hated being the smartest, most experienced being in the room at times—he had more of a clue about what was going to happen next than other people did at times. He had to duck once or twice, getting himself out of the way of the explosions, and lost track of Donna—he had to find her. It was like a battlefield in here, and all of the people—screaming and yelling when they were running, or being hurled through the air after getting blasted, then moaning and groaning whenever they hit the floor…it was a nightmare. A nightmare of the Time War.

 

Donna was nowhere in sight, but—hey, speakers--and Robot Santas pointing their horns at him; he just had to get their attention. It was time he ‘blasted’ them like they had blasted these people.

 

He got the remote control, and the robot head—just enough he needed…to discover the source. And he picked up a couple of ornament balls that had not exploded for safe keeping—just in case.

 

Donna was trying to talk to him about saving people, but he was not listening to her—he had to ‘think of the big picture’ and save the earth, save Donna if it came right down to it. He had to think about what they needed to do to survive. And what seemed most reasonable, most understandable for him to do was not what stressed Donna out. He could not be concerned for other people who were mere casualties—he had to fight the enemy.

 

Wherever he went, across time and space, he held his own ground wherever he determined was right. If he chose a side, in a fight or in a debate, that was where he stood unless he found out there was a fault. Usually, there was no fault—no way to make him believe that he stood on any side except the right side. Of course, he wasn’t always perfect when it came to his decisions  about what to do next, but he did not let himself get discouraged, and even faced the consequences of his actions sometimes.

 

In a crowd of cheering people, in the face of the High Council of Time Lords sentencing him to exile—he stood, and faced any trouble, any danger he saw as a threat.

 

He told Lance and Donna that he needed a lift to H.C. Clements, but more than that—he needed to find out the truth.

 

***

Donna had to play dumb again when he mentioned the Battle of Canary Wharf; she couldn’t stand it, not being able to reveal herself to the Doctor, the full truth of what she was doing. She thought she was lying very badly when she mentioned ‘being in Spain’ and ‘scubba-diving’ while all of this was happening. Lance looked at her like he could not even believe what she was saying. But apparently the Doctor believed her, and she got away with it—but someday, the Doctor would find out the truth of what she was doing. And she could not lie forever—no matter how good she was at it.

 

The Doctor pushed Lance to the side, totally ignoring him as he went on explaining what was going on, and Donna glanced over at Lance, hoping he was all right. Lance seemed to shrug it off, not much bothered by what was going on after what had happened at the reception hall. She hoped he was not ‘freaking out’ inside himself like she was outside.

 

The Doctor told her the truth about what was affecting her—‘Who-on particles’ or something like that—and Donna realized this was serious by the way the Doctor was telling her this fact. Although he seemed to be reaching for straws, using the mug and pencil to show her and the Who-on particles being ‘magnetized’ to the Tardis—she could not believe this was happening. 4-H? It was all just…what was happening here?

 

But the Doctor was on top of things. He was—marvelous, far more marvelous than Lance was being right now. But—she could not believe this, she was going with him, she was going with him to make sure that she would be there when he made the discovery that would save her life--as he was bound to do. He was important, and she would protect him. And Lance had to go as well—she needed him, by her side, and she had to know just how well did he measure up opposed to the Doctor?

 

Of course, the two of them got along well, boys being boys complaining about her—Oi! She was tired of these complaints; she had to behave sometimes, but other times—she felt like lashing out at everybody.

 

She had gotten used to things, the strangeness of this situation, ever since the TARDIS flew; she knew that things would never be the same, but she had hoped—maybe it would change. Maybe it could be ‘normal’ again. But normal no more—she was changing as well…at least Lance was with her. And the Doctor. She could get through this with these two men at her side.

 

She had to think of her mum at that moment, standing alone at the party, and her father standing off to the side—she had wanted to help these people. But the Doctor had only wanted to help himself, it seemed, solve the problem—he couldn’t get it through his head, it seemed, that there were people who had gotten hurt at the party. What type of Doctor was he?

 

They hit the subbasement floor, and stepped out—she looked around, shocked and scared that all of this had been down below, beneath the place where she worked—how did all of this get down here? What was all of this for? And why—why wasn’t she losing her mind? Strange things were getting real and natural for her.

 

The Doctor, however, went straight for—“Oh, you have got to be joking me.” She said. “What sort of—evil, nefarious thing would have Segways all the way down here, underneath--”

 

“Do you know how to operate these things?” The Doctor asked her.

 

“I haven’t got a clue--” She said.

 

“Here, let me, I took a class once on how to operate a Segway.” Lance said, showing the Doctor the controls. Donna smiled, glad for once that her fiancé had a chance to show off to the space boy. The Doctor, meanwhile, seemed most impressed by Lance’s knowledge.

 

Within minutes, they were shuttling off, and laughing together, and Donna couldn’t help saying, “You are a bundle of laughs, straw man!” to the Doctor.

“You are, too!” He said.

 

“Oi!” She cried in between the laughter.

 

Once they got off the Segways, the Doctor told her, “Couldn’t get rid of you if I tried,” smiling just before he went up the ladder.

 

“Wait!” Donna called.

 

“What?” The Doctor said, coming back down.

 

“I am—one of six.” She said. “Well, technically, I am #2.” She said, putting up two fingers.

 

“What does that mean?” He asked.

 

“Oh, never mind that, just go!” She said.

 

The Doctor went up, shaking his head. Lance stared at her.

 

“Donna, what was--”

 

“Never mind, Lance.” She said, sighing. “I had no clue what I was doing, saying that, but—I hope it just makes me feel better.” She shook her head, and then looked up at the Doctor’s posterior as he climbed, wondering what he might see.

 

***

She could trust the Doctor to tell her the truth, even if it was bad. "Because they were deadly." He said when she asked why his people had gotten rid of 'Who-on' particles later on; but the truth about Lance--everything he had ever told her was all lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Finale of Runaway Bride: Earth, Wind, (Water) and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale to the Runaway Bride portion of this story--yay! Gets into the big, bad, good stuff along the way--Lance and Donna, Doctor, and the Racnoss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to get through this part--finally made it! I included a bit at the end after seeing 'A Good Man Goes to War'--had to, you know what bit I'm talking about. Don't worry, it's only a minor bit, a little nursery rhyme for those who haven't seen it, but it does give a little away. So, spoiler alert here. I also got a little bit into foreshadowing with poor Donna, especially near the end. And I've got an idea of my own--won't give it away, but it ties in here somehow. Anyway, I don't know what the rest of Series 6 will bring, but I'm ready for it--unfortunately, will not come back until the fall. So I might update this now and again, as frequently as I get Who-sick. So--we can go on!

**6\. Finale of Runaway Bride—Earth, Wind, (Water) and Fire**

 

The Thames--river of London, river of time; you could always see where you were, or when you were, in London by checking the Thames. More than once, he had gotten his bearings along by this river. Now he was reoriented again by coming up, and seeing that they were right under the Thames, right under the flood barriers--Torchwood had gotten access to a lot of different places, especially here in London, over the years. He hoped he wouldn’t have to clean up one of their little messes ever again.

 

He came back down, and told Donna and Lance where they were—oddly enough, Donna hit the issue on the spot even though she didn’t know it had happened before. (And probably would happen again, if he was any judge of how much villains just loved to attract attention, and hide themselves at the same time.)

 

And what a marvelous lab they had--Torchwood had built the lair first, but whoever was here now had expanded the lab, upgraded and changed operations, and was still running it if he was any judge of the particles being extracted at this very moment, extracted from the river that had once formed a marshland. It was a deadly game they were playing, he thought, staring at the blue bubbles frothing and foaming, but they had created something brilliant nonetheless, something ingenious and conniving at the same time. Yet he just couldn’t allow it to go on--especially with Donna getting doused.

 

He told her the truth of the Huon particles, and what they were doing to her--all of those enzymes, endorphins, adrenaline, the Huon particles were basically boiling hot with all of that energy, emotion, and life building up inside of her, like a microwave about to burst. The excitement and anxiety of the wedding to come, the nervousness and worry of whether or not Lance would love her—no wonder she slapped him then, again!

 

“What did I do?” He said.

 

“Are you enjoying this? You called me an oven, a microwave! A big fat oven with a bun cooking in the oven, and--well, I was just getting bored and tired with all of your talk. Out with it, man! Give me the quick and clean answer!” She said. “All right, just tell me.”

 

All of that was contributing to the power of the Huon energy, and was slowly destroying her, unraveling her atomic structure, like a cancer or a parasite feeding off of her, the host.

 

Donna would not die, he would swear to that, but he was worried about what was to come--because there was always something to come. And then they heard the voice--the voice of a woman, a hissing female, not a human woman, and the Doctor started to wonder what they had gotten themselves into. He waited, slightly between battle-ready tenseness and nervousness as the iron curtain of Lab 002 slowly lifted to reveal--well, a great big hole (drilled to the middle of the earth, as he soon found out) in a large cavernous room, large enough to host a concert in.

 

“Someone call for the Rolling Stones?” The Doctor whispered. “Or Queen?” He muttered.

 

“Oi!” Donna hissed.

 

“The audience on the floor would fall into the pit, except for those with the great balcony seats just above and to the sides of the stage.” He said. ‘Oh, look at this!” He marveled. “She has great showmanship, even if she likes to prattle on. “Hibernating at the edge of the universe, until the secret heart was uncovered and called out to awaken me!’ Great lyrics for a song—are you the ‘secret heart’?” He asked Donna. “That bit was clever, you have got a heart after all.”

 

“Stop it!” Donna said, punching his arm. “You’re not being funny.” She said, trying to ignore him.

 

“Ow!” He said, rubbing his arm. “That hurt! Must you always be so violent? Must it always end in violence?” He paused. “Must it always end?” He whispered to himself, getting the chills.

 

Lance had already walked out, he noticed--and there were those Roboform things again, pointing their guns at him and Donna—okay, he had to think of something before Lance ruined everything.

 

***

Donna was scared and frightened, thinking of what was happening to her, and what was going on--all of this had started because she wanted to investigate H.C. Clements for their involvement with Torchwood. She hadn’t been in Spain during the Battle of Canary Wharf--she had been here in London, fighting to protect herself and her family, though keeping out of sight of Daleks and Cybermen. Soon after that, she had been recruited by the Agency, and things hadn’t been the same since. It was while on this assignment from the Agency that she met Lance, and got doused—surely the two weren’t connected, were they? Was she targeted by whoever was in charge of this Huon particle experiment because of her involvement with Lance?

 

The Doctor remarked the obvious, “Someone’s been digging,” looking down, and he was informed of where it went—to the center of the earth. When he asked, “What for?”, Donna immediately answered “Dinosaurs” because it was obviously the wrong answer, something that Jules Verne made up, but she thought that it might be clever and stupid to say at the same time. And the Doctor was a madman for talking to thin air, as he himself admitted, and he didn’t want to be mad. And he called her down. He called whoever was up there down to where they were, and Donna thought he was insane for being so impatient to meet their fate.

 

And it was a horrible fate, as that woman’s voice warned, for she was a hideous spider-woman, like something out of a B-movie, a Hammer horror picture show, she was so huge! And she was right up on that stage, like the Doctor said she would be—apparently she did like to show off her hideous frame. Donna was in shock, speechless, while the Doctor was prattling on about the Racnoss—Empress of the Racnoss, apparently. ‘Queen’ was appropriate, then. He was trying to explain to her who the Racnoss were, and she was just nodding her head, trying to take it all in and staring at the spider-woman so that she wouldn’t take her unawares--she didn’t want to be gobbled up by a spider-woman! Omnivore?

 

Born starving? What sort of--no wonder she was so big, she ate whole planets or something! And people too, just like she suspected! And H.C. Clements was dead! Oh, poor man, he was such a good man, too, she liked him, and she had made fun of him even though he had been so nice to her and everyone else in the office.

 

She spotted Lance—oh, good boy, Lance! He would save her and the Doctor while the Doctor was prattling on! She started talking as well, hoping to distract the Racnoss, as she was a good talker, too. She cried out to Lance, but Lance—he stopped, right in mid-swing, and started laughing with the Racnoss.

 

She couldn’t believe it! Not after all of these months—she loved him! And he was joking with the Racnoss! The Racnoss, the spider-woman, said he was funny! Her whole world was dissolving around her. She had believed in him, she had believed in Lance, and oh, what a fool she was!

 

The Doctor even had to apologize to her—had he known? Did he figure it out as soon as he met Lance that Lance was--oh, what a fool she was for falling in love with him. She should have gone on investigating H.C. Clements, instead of fooling around with him. She cried out to Lance, trying to stop him from ruining everything, but he called her the stupidest, cruelest things then, calling her stupid and inept, and he didn’t believe in her, he didn’t love her. She was shocked and mortified, about ready to cry, as she wondered if it was true—if she was as stupid as she pretended to be. The Doctor explained how she had gotten so full of Huon particles from the coffee Lance had served her, and it made sense--she hadn’t been targeted for getting involved with Lance, Lance had targeted her, and she had gotten involved with him on her own. It was all a set-up, and she hadn’t expected it--she was new to this whole investigating thing. What a spy she was, falling in love with her own poisoner and the enemy.

 

‘Head of Human Resources’—he had only married her to keep her here. And he was prattling on now. Oh, yuck, he had slept with the spider-woman! Oh, that was it, that was it, get her out of here. But the Doctor wanted to find out more—why couldn’t he just stop it already?

 

***

The Doctor watched and listened as it unfolded around him, keeping his eyes on Donna as he hoped she wouldn’t do something—no, he shouldn’t think of her like that. She had already been downgraded and bullied enough by this man, Lance, for far too long, and he had to wait for her to come to her own conclusion—to make her own choice of what was the truth. He tried not to laugh, because it was not true, it couldn’t be true, that Donna was--Lance was just being cruel. It had to be that way. Any human was special in his or her own way, but Lance--and others like him--were just cruel. And stupid for taking cruelty to whole new levels of trickery and betrayal. Lance had his own reasons for doing what he did, but they were too short-sighted, not seeing that the big picture was more than just the stars, as he was being tricked and played with as well by the Empress of the Racnoss. And Lance called him a Martian—oh, boy, he was wrong, but the Doctor didn’t correct him now. Finally, he tried to get a bit more information, and they blocked him off, the Roboforms about to fire—Roboform, that might be a good disguise--so he called his TARDIS to come rescue them and find out for himself what was at the center of the earth. They had to go back--back, backwards in time, not just space, and Donna had to sit down and have a good cry for just a minute.

 

“Are you all right?” He asked after letting her sit there.

 

“I’m fine--just peachy-keen and dandy.” She said sarcastically. “All my life, I waited to meet the right man, the right man who would sweep me off my feet and take me away from here, and the right man—was just an idiot who used me and betrayed me to the spider-woman! The giant, red spider-woman--” She cried.

 

“It’s all right, Donna, it’s all right--you’re going to be fine.” He hugged her. “That man wasn’t worth it.” He said. “You’re going to be safe now.” He whispered.

 

“Safe? I can’t be safe--” She pushed herself away from him, and shook her head. “Not anymore,” She whispered.

 

“We’ve arrived,” He announced after a moment, and showed her the earth forming from ‘dust, rocks, and gas’, the sun brand-new, and the solar system not even formed yet. Donna stopped crying, stunned by everything.

 

“You are made from stardust, as is everything else on planet Earth.” He said. “So was my planet, too.” He muttered. “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, it all begins and ends the same.”

 

“Puts the wedding into perspective,” She said.

 

Should there ever be a peaceful moment, by himself or--with a companion, he liked to stand still and look around at where they had ended up. It might be crowded, it might be secluded, it might be majestic, or crude, artificial or natural, advanced or primitive—wherever it was, whatever it was, they would take a moment to stop, stand still, and stare. And that moment was now for him and Donna.

 

“That’s what you do, the human race—make sense out of chaos. Blocking it out with--with weddings, Christmases, and calendars. This whole process is beautiful, but only if it’s being observed.” He said.

 

And the Racnoss egg ship was at the center of it all—imagine that! They were called back all of a sudden, by the Empress Racnoss using the reverse pull—and he had to finnagle the ship so that at least they would be pushed to the side of where they called to--extrapolator! Ride the wave!

 

He got out, he had to stop the Racnoss from being freed and feeding on the planet Earth, and Donna was right behind him--or at least she was. “Donna!” He cried.

 

Oh, he was so stupid! He had lost her, and she was the key! She was the key to the whole evil plan of the Racnoss, and he had—why hadn’t he told her to stay inside the space--TARDIS at all costs? Oh, well, the Empress Racnoss would have probably torn the great TARDIS apart trying to get to her; or tried to, at any rate. He had to get in there—

 

“Hello, Roboform!” He cried with a smile on his face as the robot pointed a gun at him. This was going to be fun.

 

***

“I hate you.” Donna told Lance.

 

“I think we’ve got a bit beyond that, sweetheart.”

 

The spider-woman started prattling.

 

“I’m stuck in this spider-woman’s web, after seeing the beginning of the earth!” Donna cried. “Why couldn’t you have been more--patient, or understanding, instead of being so insistent on getting your own way that you had to follow the orders of a spider-woman, and drug me? So what if you wanted to travel and see the universe? Not while putting my life at risk, and the lives of billions of people!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked.

 

“The Doctor was right, you’re not worth it. You’re just a stick in the mud, and stupider than I am! Trusting the spider-woman--give me a break, who would ever trust the spider-woman? And sleeping with her?!” Donna cried. “That’s sick! That thing is a man-eater—literally!” She shouted.

 

“Man--eater?” Lance gulped.

 

The particles were purged out of her and Lance, the bride- and groom-to-be, to awaken the Racnoss, and Lance was indeed—eaten. Donna cried out in pain, remembering her love for him, but she had to live—she was going to die. Oh, God, she was going to die, and get eaten, and the Doctor—that stupid Martian had left her. She wasn’t going to live. She started crying for herself as well as Lance, looking down into that hole to the center of the earth.

 

But then—the Racnoss Empress called out to the Doctor! She laughed just to see him up there on that platform, unveiling his mask and that robe, and he was--amazing, she had to admit to herself. Donna gasped as she was freed from the web, and then—screamed as she swung down and across to the Doctor—hitting the barrel beneath him, and falling onto the ground.

 

“Thanks for nothing,” She said, but she was glad to see him alive. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to be for long.

 

The Doctor offered one last chance to the Empress of the Racnoss, as shadows wavered behind him like light reflected off of water, being awfully generous in her own opinion, but the spider-woman just laughed at him. Donna was certain that this was it, there was no way that the Doctor could--no, she refused to doubt him, she would believe in him. Even as the Roboforms aimed at them, she told herself, he had shown her, and done, great things to help her, and she would believe in him, she would believe that they would live, even if they had to die to prove her wrong.

 

And they didn’t—the Roboforms ‘relaxed’, the Doctor had reprogrammed them, he had ‘pockets’, and Donna was glad for that. He wasn’t from Mars? Then—what was Gallifrey? She thought to herself. But the Racnoss hated him for that! They murdered the Racnoss? Then—Donna looked up at the Doctor; what was he doing here? What--was the Doctor? She thought.

 

“I warned you. You did this.” The Doctor said. He looked merciless. He wasn’t smiling or laughing now. And the balls in his hands—where they from the wedding party? Oh, God, what was the Doctor going to do? She thought.

 

They flew up into the air, so bright and shining, and went off—exploding with a cascade of water, the Thames, and fire—fire so bright and hot, she had to cover her head and look away. Oh, Doctor, Doctor, what have you done? She thought to herself that he was a monster as she watched the agony of the Racnoss.

 

Then she looked up at him—wet and disdainful, contemptible and miserable, dismal and dour, formidable and unwavering, what an unnerving stare he had, full of sadness and unbound by convention. What had she gotten herself into here?

 

***

The Empress of the Racnoss screamed as fire burned her, and water flooded the rest of the chamber--cascading down into the hole to the center of the earth. He had destroyed everything, and he wanted to destroy everything after what had just happened to him.

 

The Doctor stood up there, watching the fire burn and the river flow, and listening to the pleas of the Empress Racnoss, and the cries of the Racnoss children, and he thought—if I were to fall...I would drown and burn at the same time.

 

He saw a splinter in time--a moment where everything that would come to pass was based on his decision; a moment where his decision might change everything. And he stood upon that precipice, beneath him was fire and water, and he thought that if I were to fall, someday, somewhere, someone might find my body, and they would say, ‘the Doctor is dead’! They might shout, or sing, or cry, or praise him, or scorn him, then.

 

And he could not see, and he could not feel, and he tried not to see, and he tried not to feel--but he could not let go.

 

“Doctor!” She cried—Donna? He thought. He looked down, and saw her, drenched in her wedding dress--her wedding dress, she had nothing else to wear, nothing else to change into. A bride without a groom, a groom who had drowned or been eaten long before now, a groom who had betrayed her and tricked her, who had poisoned her and sacrificed his own humanity in the process, for he had not loved her, and she had loved him—and he had slept with the Empress of the Racnoss. Perhaps he had deserved to die. Perhaps not. Perhaps no one deserved to die today.

 

“You can stop now!” Donna cried. It was not that simple—surely it could not be that simple? He thought to himself, looking up. How could he stop this? He clenched his teeth, and gasped. How could he--walk away, he thought to himself; you have stood here long enough.

 

And he cried, he felt it—the pain of the suffering and loss, and understanding that it was for Donna and Lance, for Rose and for himself, for the Empress and her Racnoss babies—it was all so real. And he had to walk away, he could not bear it, he could not bear the feeling, it was so real and painful, and he had lost everything here today. He could not die, could he? He could not lose himself--not here, not now. He would have to live to fight another day, fight to survive, and get R—Donna out of here. She had to live.

 

He came down to help her climb, clearing away the obstacles on the stairwell along with Donna, led her as they climbed—high above the water and the fire, rising, high above the Racnoss and her children, leaving it all behind. They climbed out of the sewer, out of the pit, out of that hell-hole of a concert theater hall.

 

And they arrived at the top, at the surface, just as the Empress Racnoss and her spaceship was destroyed--they had to duck down, closing the lid for a moment, as the explosion rained down pieces of burning wreckage. And the Doctor and Donna stood at the top of the Thames Flood Barrier, laughing at the dry land that surrounded them, the boats that were stranded and the fish that were dying, after they had nearly burned and died. They had made it. They had survived the hell-hole. He laughed, she laughed. They could survive anything, he thought to himself, together—the Doctor and Donna.

 

***

“‘We are the champions, my friends, and we’ll keep on fighting till the end!’” The Doctor sang along to the music inside the TARDIS as Donna laughed.

 

“You sound worse than my granddad!” She said.

 

“‘We are the champions, we are the champions, no time for losers, because we are the champions—of the world!’” He laughed. “Hold on, Donna, I’m going to have you back home in Chiswick in no time, once I get this TARDIS fixed up. We’re alive!” He shouted. “We’re alive!”

 

“Thanks to you, Doctor.” She said.

 

“Thanks to you.” He added.

 

Donna shook her head. She couldn’t help herself—just below the surface, when they were about to emerge and the Racnoss star-ship was destroyed, she couldn’t help thinking that somehow, somewhere, she was standing on a street corner with two of her mates, watching that same explosion, and there was something on her back. Maybe it was just deja vu, or something like that. She was just glad that the Doctor was alive, too, as that had been a close call.

 

“I’m just exhausted, wiped out, and blown away by this whole day.” She said.

 

“Oh, come on, you could handle something like that again--” He said.

 

“Handle? No way, Doctor, I couldn’t handle anything like that again!” She said. “It’s been one hell of a nightmare—only this morning, I was waiting to get married, ready for it, in fact, and now--I’m just lucky to be alive.” She looked up at him. “Thanks to you, Doctor. You gave me the greatest gift of all, Doctor, to see the world form, to see my family, friends, and home in a fresh, new light, to give me a feeling, a taste of adventure, and to save me from the biggest mistake of my life. Thank you.”

 

“No, don’t thank me, Donna.” He said, looking at her. “Thank yourself. You had it within you all along.”

 

“Within--” Donna poofed it away. “Whatever.” She said, sitting back down.

 

She was also depressed, sad, glad, madly in love and heartbroken at the same time. Madly in love? With the Doctor? Maybe just a little bit. Yet she missed and despised Lance, felt sorry for and hated the Racnoss and her babies--it was complicated. The Doctor was involved. She did not really want to think about it just now. Maybe if she got away from him, if he left her, maybe she could forget all about him and what he had shown her--or maybe not. She did not really want to forget everything about him and what he had shown her.

 

They landed, and walked out. “A lot has happened, Doctor.” She said, half to herself. “I need to regroup, and focus on what I want to do, what are my options and everything.” She said.

 

The Doctor inspected the TARDIS. “She’s all right. Survive anything.”

 

“More than I did,” Donna sighed. She just couldn’t be a part of this. She couldn’t be with him anymore. She wanted to go home, and recover from this nightmare of a day.

 

“You’re a gift.” The Doctor said. “I’m delivering you back to your parents and family on Christmas night!”

 

“Oi!” She said, and laughed. “Seriously, though, I hate Christmas.”

 

“Why, Donna?” He asked. “Why do you hate Christmas?”

 

“It’s a lot of fuss and mess over nothing!” She said.

 

“Is it, Donna?” He asked, tapping the side of his nose.

 

“What’s that about?” She asked.

 

“Nothing, nothing, Donna.” He sighed. “Just the joy and celebration of the holiday season against the winter darkness.” He added.

 

“All right, all right, maybe there is something to it,” She said.

 

The Doctor was wonderful and marvelous, and so very sad, lonely, and depressed, she didn’t want to be with him. Walk in the dust—so many memories, so many good-byes and so-longs, he must have felt them before, or something.

 

“No.” She said immediately when he asked her to come with him. He looked so hopeful, forlorn, and longing at the same time when he asked, but she couldn’t, not now. And then he looked down, biting at the bit, but now he was trying to hide his disappointment, sadness, and maybe shame. She was ashamed as well for what she said, but it had to be said.

 

“Do you live your life like that?” She asked. Was it always like this around him?

 

“Not all the time.” He said, looking up. His eyes were shining in the starlight--so was hers, she imagined.

 

“I think you do.” She told him. Beautiful and terrible, she had seen it in him—a stranger he was to her, and she didn’t think she could live like that, not with him, not now. “You scare me to death!” She said.

 

“The Doctor and Donna! Isn’t it--isn’t it meant to be?” He asked.

 

“No. Tell you what, I’ll invite you to Christmas dinner—Mum cooks enough for 20, Dad does a great Charlie Chaplin impersonation, and you’ll love my granddad. He thinks like you. He’s got the dirtiest sense of humor sometimes, and he jokes and he smirks and he laughs--you’re almost as funny as he is!” She told him. “You’ll love him when you meet him.”

 

“Yeah, maybe—someday,” The Doctor said, half under his breath. He was leaving without saying good-bye to her—did it always end this way with?

 

“Oi! Doctor!” She called him, and he came back. “Blimey, you can shout, what?” He asked.

 

“Am I ever going to see you again?” She asked.

 

“If I’m lucky.” He said.

 

“Just promise me one thing—find someone.”

 

“I don’t need anyone.” He said.

 

“I think you do--I think you need someone whose hand you can hold, to stop you, in the dark.” She said.

 

“Thank you, Donna. Good luck.” He said.

 

“Wait--your friend. What was her name?”

 

“Her name was Rose,” He said, choked up before he left.

 

“Rose.” She said to herself, walking back into the house. She would remember that-- and she would remember the Doctor, too; she just hoped that he would remember her, in his own way, shape, or form.

 

***

The ‘doctor’ stood there, watching her go in. “I remember this place. I remember...her.” He said, curious and awestruck by this sense of feeling inside him. That red brick house--that red door--and that poor old man saluting to him in the doorway, as he stood out in the rain, before he left, and the red door closed behind him.

 

“It’s a start,” His companion said, smiling sadly, as they walked away.

 

“‘Demons run when a good man goes to war;/” The ‘doctor’ said, reciting. “‘Night will fall and drown the sun, when a good man goes to war./

 

“‘Friendship dies and true love lies,’” The companion continued, “‘night will fall and the dark will rise, when a good man goes to war./’” She got choked up.

 

“‘Demons run but count the cost, the battle’s won but the child is lost…’” He finished sadly as they vanished into the snow that would become rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I know--heart-breaking once you get through it all. So long for now--will post more soon, I hope.


	7. Fight to the Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor fights, and keeps on fighting, through the centuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might not be the best chapter title, but it just came to me. Might be a bit of filler, but I think it's pretty good. Sorry I did not update sooner. (Note: I still hate how the program seems to recognize two spaces between every single paragraph, and now it 'blew up' one of my lines--oh, boy, try not to notice it too much.)

7\. Fight to the Death

The squadron advanced across the battlefield, energy staffs at the ready. “Remember, when I say fire--” Their commander pointed straight ahead. “Aim for the eyestalks! Fire!”

 

The squadron let loose a volley, recharging staffs as the enemy flew in, closer and closer, firing shots of their own. One or two fell, regenerating or attempting to before they died, but the beams from the energy staffs found their marks.

 

“Retreat! Retreat!” Their commander called after a few minutes, when the Daleks were getting reinforcements. The squadron retreated toward their Type 40 TARDIS.

 

“Rassilon, this thing is ancient!” One of the squad members complained as their commander shut the doors.

 

“It will still get us out of here.” The Doctor told them, starting to flip some controls and twist a dial.

 

The TARDIS shook from the Dalek’s shots trying to penetrate the forcefield, but already they were dematerializing. “Scramble the coordinates, they’ll follow us.” The Doctor shouted.

 

One of the squad members worked to access the code and neutralize the problem. “How does it feel to be in control?” Clarascimille asked, looking up.

 

“Feels fine, though a little strange.” He said. “I’m almost glad they put me in charge of this patrol, though.”

 

“Not exactly a military commander, are you?” Clarascimille asked, arching her eyebrows.

 

“Well, I’m not used to being obeyed.” The Doctor said, smiling, before they were rammed.

 

“We’ve been hit!” One of the squad members declared, checking the damage. “We’ve got to rematerialize!”

 

“Call another TARDIS for assistance!” The Doctor declared, pulling back the throttle. “I’ve got control of the ship--get your staffs ready, and be prepared to fight!”

 

The Time Lords grabbed their weapons as Clarascimille used a secret hailing frequency. “Mayday, mayday, all ships, Theta-Sigma-Alpha needs help. I repeat, Theta-Sigma-Alpha needs help. We are under attack by an unknown number of assailants, I repeat, an unknown--”

 

A whistle echoed through the ship as someone responded. “Cool your jets, Millie, I’m here.” The figure appeared on screen as the Doctor and Clarascimille stared. “Hello, Doctor, Koschei here—the Deathless.” The Master smirked. “I thought you might have died by now, but, well, bad things always happen. I’ll come by to help you--just give me the coordinates of where you’re going, and I’ll be there.” He said before switching off the display.

# Clarascimille glanced at the Doctor. “Should I--”

 

“Might as well,” He sighed, nodding.

 

Mille punched in the coordinates to send. “I do hope you know what you are doing.” She said.

 

“One of the worst things about being in control.” He said.

 

The TARDIS materialized, and the Doctor emerged from the vehicle, entering what appeared to be a large, empty chamber, his energy staff at the ready as he treaded across what appeared to be black granite floor tiles. The rest of his surroundings were close to darkness, except for a glow of bright illumination near him. “Why do I get the feeling I just walked into a trap?” He muttered to himself.

 

Something slashed out at him through the darkness, and he defended himself, using the energy staff as a sword--clang, blang, the energy staff blazed as the Doctor shielded himself from the bright lights.

 

“Where are you? Show yourself!” He cried.

 

***

Many years later, the Doctor entered a cold, dark room. He had left Donna awhile ago, and had wanted a break, but instead, he got another problem--the Colmaachs had declared war on the Baleals, and he had to intervene before the conflict got bloody. He entered the room to talk with one of the investigators on the problem. He sat on the opposite side of the table in the middle of the room, his back to the opposite door where the investigator was likely to come in, as he did not walk to look too ‘on edge’ with the investigator. He fixed his tie, making sure his suit looked nice and shiny, before the door opened behind him.

 

“Excuse me--Doctor? You’re in my seat.” The other person said, and the Doctor froze.

 

“Jack?” He said, turning around.

 

“The name is Kaliya Narfarari,” The man who the Doctor knew as Captain Jack Harkness said, “But you can call me Kali.”

 

“How about Cal?” The Doctor said, smiling. “Can I call you Cal? Or how about Calvin instead?” He asked. He knew the connotation of Kali. He immediately knew that this was before Captain Jack had met him, even before Captain Jack had taken up his pseudonym, as the captain still seemed to be ‘normal’--not a fixed point in time.

 

“Sure, Doctor, whatever takes your fancy,” Kaliya said, rolling his eyes, “But just get out of my damn seat!”

 

The Doctor switched sides, shaking his head. “I am surprised, but, well--let’s get started. The Baleals need to understand the problem--the Colmaachs aren’t getting it. The Colmaachs blame the Baleals for a crime that hasn’t even happened yet, and the Baleals need to talk with the Colmaachs to--”

 

“Doctor, Doctor--let me finish this for you,” Kaliya said, standing up before he even got the chance to sit down properly. “The Baleals aren’t getting anywhere. The Colmaachs are advancing, with or without the Baleals’ understanding, and the Baleals need to fight to save themselves. I am one of the Baleals--I understand the problem, sort of, but I am unique. I am also one of the Time Agents, and we renounced our identities--including national and planetary--to remain impartial to events, and make things happen.”

 

“‘Make things happen’? I don’t like the sound of that.” The Doctor told him.

 

“The Time Agency is supposed to intervene, and make things happen, by enforcing the rigors of history--within the parameters set up by our patrons. The Colmaachs want this war, and the Baleals need this war--to grow up, and defend themselves, or die trying.” He said.

 

The Doctor stared at Kaliya. “How can you say such a thing?”

 

“You don’t what I’ve been through.” Kaliya said. “We--I am a Time Agent, and I am a part of this.”

 

“The Time Agency is wrong. And I’ll prove it to you,” The Doctor said, getting out of his chair. “I’m sorry, Jack--but I’m afraid this is the part where two years of nightmare start for you. Two years of decay and desperation. Only to be wiped clean from your memory by the Time Agency--except for a little part of you. This is the part where you recognize--things are not right.” He said, leaving.

 

“My name is not Jack!” Kaliya called, and stormed after the Doctor.

 

***

He had stood at precipices many times before, literally and metaphorically, though whether or not it was of his own doing depended. Sometimes he stepped away from the edge, perfectly balanced, without a thought, but many times he wavered.

 

In those instances, he sometimes did fall, usually because he was pushed, either by force or by influence. Although once he did fall, willfully to see what laid in the Nothingness beneath him.

 

Sometimes he came out unharmed, sometimes there were wounds, although once he did fall, and pain and coldness crept into him, his vision fading as, before darkness, he saw the faces of his companions, and of his own face after death--this was his fourth regeneration into his fifth self.

 

Other times, he was sure of himself, although he did have dreams, a bit rarely, but they were nightmares really of himself dressed up as a clown with a bit of grease makeup, holding an umbrella in one hand as he tried to stand still on a tightrope.

 

He had to walk to keep his balance on a tightrope, obviously impossible to stand for very long without losing your balance, but he could not decide whether to walk forwards or backwards, and he had to stop and think. A folly of a Time Lord, perhaps, or just the strange circumstances of dreams.

 

Meanwhile, there were people laughing at him. Others quietly talked about shaking the tightrope just to see what would happen. It angered him, of course, but that just made it harder to keep his balance and self-control.

 

He and everyone else was stuck in madness, a fall was inevitable for him and they could not understand that he was more than just a clown, more than something to laugh at or abuse. He was not just a Time Lord, he was also a living being.

 

It got hard for him, at times. He had told Rose, not too long ago, that you needed 'a hand to hold', and Donna had said practically the same thing, and it certainly was true. First time he went out on the TARDIS, he already knew that it would be hard to travel without some companionship, and naturally so he had brought Susan along because they needed each other, though he knew it could be dangerous. However, he had not fully comprehended how it would affect him, how even his own stance would come close to collapsing.

 

How, years later, he would sag against the doors of his TARDIS, leaning against it for support as he heard the harsh yells of Daleks, one against so many in the end. How, not too long ago, he hadn't been able to give Rose a hand to hold and she was nearly sucked into the Void--he was relieved that she had been caught before, no words could express the gratitude of that. Yet she was still gone, and when he had approached that blank wall, and leaned against it to steady himself, he felt something, briefly, a presence, but the void between the worlds was strong, and after that, there was just a feeling of absence.

 

Absence--in the end, the Doctor had to rely on himself to remain steady for now, for however long it took for him to cope, and that was all he could do when he had so much to do. The TARDIS was waiting to be taken to its next destination, and Time--passing, all of these years and centuries and eons, around and through him to become the Doctor.

 

And the Doctor stood. With the man who would be Jack. “Whoa...” Kaliya said breathlessly, looking around. “What is this? Who are you?” He shouted.

 

Time--passing, all of these years and centuries and eons, around and through him to become the Doctor. The moments and the hours and the days, he knew, where did winter go when it was spring, from day to night in an instant, how could he live when so many lives faded? He wondered. Susan, Katrina, Jamie, Sarah Jane Smith, Harry Sullivan, the Brigadier, Romana, Adric, Ace and so many more--like plastic bags blown past him by the wind as he stood on a street corner.

 

The Doctor gasped, and lifted his head, feeling how empty it all was, how meaningless were all of these losses, with cherished Rose amongst them--all of these partings, so jarringly abrupt, like that one, with so much pain and so much left unsaid.

 

“I am the Doctor, and I am going to show you what it is like to be me.” He told Kaliya, nodding. “We are going to the future, and the past, and I will convince you--just like I convinced you before, I think.” He said. “The Time Agency needs to learn--learn not to intervene, and not ‘make things happen’.” He said, shuddering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Hopefully it's interesting.


	8. On Any Given Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Jones comes into the Doctor's life, and he couldn't be even more surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song 'On Any Given Day' by Carbon Leaf, and the lyrics in the middle of the story come out of that. Beautiful song. I once saw a fanvid of 9th Doctor, Rose, & Mickey set to this music with the rest of the 1st series cast and scenery. I felt it especially fit the 10th Doctor now, after Rose had left him, and maybe with Martha as well. (P.S.: I decided not to continue on with 'Fight to the Death' storyline--what happened to the 8th Doctor in that battle, what happened between 10th and 'Kaliya' for now--I will get back to that stuff someday, I think.)

**  
Chapter 8: On Any Given Day   
**

‘ _ **I woke, I broke free, drove a long time,/It didn’t purge you from my mind.** ’_

 

The Doctor stood before a shop window, smiling to himself as he saw Martha Jones walking down the sidewalk, talking to each of her family members on her mobile phone. It was a busy, crowded workday in London, typical of the city of London in the 21st century just before the hospital ‘disappeared’.

All of those people...and she stood out, right in the middle of the crowd. She was smiling, laughing to herself if not out loud. She kept getting all of these messages, but dealt with these problems as they come--brave Martha. Confident Martha. Worthy Martha? He couldn’t get her out of his head, not after what had happened to him and her at the hospital, nor could he forget what Donna had said to him--“Find someone...you need someone whose hand you can hold, to stop you, in the dark.”

When he had stepped back into the TARDIS, after telling Donna Rose’s name, he had shaken his head, not knowing whether he wanted to laugh or to cry, for these last few hours with Donna had been--well, what's an especially good word for annoying? Or miserable? Or overwhelming? No, it had not always been like that. Sometimes she really had been nice to be around. Well, perhaps he had wanted to end it there with Donna, and not take her with him so soon after Rose had gone. Perhaps he had wanted to give himself some time to think, and be alone for now.

He stepped up to the console and flipped some switches, banging here and there while the TARDIS gave a wheeze. The old ship really wasn't up to the task of giving such a dramatic take-off, not after all it had just been through today with flying around the highway, chasing a taxi, getting all of that Huon particle energy from Donna, beaming up a snow-inducing signal, and—well, trying to communicate with Rose.

But the Doctor insisted on putting on this show, one last spectacle for the sake of putting on a good face for Donna, to start off the next phase of his existence--Rose-less--with, well, a bang.

Donna had had been taken advantage of, there was no doubt about that, and he wanted to give her one last thrill to...well, thank her for everything she had done, saving him in a sense, even if he had not wanted to be saved at the time. All in all, he knew that he would never forget it, he would never forget Rose or Donna, and, even if he didn't want to, he would remember it. He wanted to reassure Donna that he would be all right, and that she would be all right as well.

When the TARDIS shot up into the sky, the Doctor was strapped into his cushioned seat. The ship shook with sparks flying from the console. The alarm buzzed, the screen flickered with the standard Gallifreyian warning popping up before it, too, faded, and for a moment, the interior lights completely shut off.

The Doctor sat in the darkness for a moment, breathing heavily as he half-expected to feel the vacuum of space closing in on him soon. But power turned back on, and all was normal again as he sighed, the TARDIS had survived its blast-off into space.

He could not forget about Rose, no, he would never forget about her, but perhaps...perhaps he would move on, and find a way to live with himself.

***

‘ ** _Hang up the halo, maybe you’re right/Chalk it up to a starry night./To be set free, to live and learn,/Did we pass or fail the term?_** ’

 

The Doctor straightened his tie, and then smiled to himself as he thought, Well, might as well lose the tie, as she approached him.

 

‘ ** _You wrote a note with chalk on my door/A message I’d known long before:/On any given day you’ll find me gone./On any given day you’ll find me gone._** ’

 

Once Martha Jones laughed and snapped her phone shut, he strode out in front of her and said, “Like so!” undoing his tie right in front of her, taking it off his neck and staring into her eyes as she stared right back up at him in shock. In the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of a typical London workday—nobody stared at them, seeing as how they were all so busy getting to work on time, but she and him, they just stopped and stared right at one another, time interrupted in different time streams, future and past meeting together in the present--what a strange combination of time.

“See?” He said, inhaling deeply as he tried to calm himself down while Martha Jones still looked so bewildered up at him, not knowing what would happen next. He wanted to tell her so much, but not now--not now. He then turned around, and strode away from her, to return to her in the future time, but she turned her head around and watched him go--she noticed him, he knew, as she would soon inform him in the past. What a strange thing, she must have thought, but she probably tried to forget it, yet it was not a thing easily forgotten, especially not now.

 

‘ ** _Give me your reason, give me your rhyme,/So I can tempo me to your time./So I can scratch your surface and be/A deeper part of the mystery._** ’

 

***

He had spent some time on his own, and he had met Captain Jack Harkness again--although it was past Jack, back when his name was Kaliya Narfarari. (I know, strange, right?) He had traveled with ‘Jack’ for about a year, and then there had been the falcon, and then...he had considered building himself a robot, but that had been weird. Finally, when the Doctor was about ready to retire, there was a blip on the screen, the indication of a strange reading for this part of the universe. He brought up the details on the screen of plasma coils, quite advanced, right there on--the Doctor sighed. Earth. Eastern hemisphere. Northern Europe. Britain. London. His head leaned forward, banged against the screen, and groaned, but then after a moment, he lifted his head again, staring up at the column glowing before him.

"Well, I don't know what to say.” He said. “I didn't plan on going back, you know that, right? Of course you do, I've been talking to you so much in the silence between destinations that--this probably doesn't mean anything.” The Doctor said, turning away. “Those plasma coils, maybe they're not important enough to warrant my attention, did you ever think about that?” He asked. “Perhaps I'll just turn this knob, without looking, set a course for someplace I don't even know about, and just leave Earth behind me."

The lights dimmed and flashed and flared, glaring in the brightness that now uncovered all of the corners. There were no shadows for the Doctor to hide in anymore, and he grimaced, squinting and turning his head away.

He listened to the pulse of his TARDIS, listened to the throbbing of its instrumentation, and ached as he realized that it hurt as much as he did. Not much of a surprise, when he had taken out all of his pain on it, with all of this constant traveling in the past year or so. Still, it wanted him to go back to Earth, back to Britain and London, back to old haunts and storms of the mind and heart, to analyze the dangerous anonymous anomaly, and perhaps stop another threat to the universe.

And what better place for such threats than good old Earth, the natural stomping grounds for humans, and London especially?

The Doctor shook his head, knowing that his thoughts were just too bitter. Not all humans were bad, not when there were some like Mozart, Charles Dickens, Sarah Jane Smith, Jamie, Leonardo da Vinci, and Rose. He blinked and turned back to face the glowing column.

"I'll go back. I'll return to my work, but what I wish for is that I might know that--it would make a difference to somebody. If someone might be affected, would remember me in a...positive way. That would be my peace for now. I suppose I can expect little more."

The Doctor said nothing else to his TARDIS as it set off, once he had set the controls, and then, when it had landed, he decided to change his clothes. This was an Earth without Rose, and he needed something different to wear, something with a new color for a new perspective. He stepped outside, and glanced around, turning to gaze up at the façade of the tall building before him--Royal Hope Hospital.

The Doctor sighed. "Looks like I'm going to be a patient this time.” He shrugged and smiled resignedly.

***

He checked himself in, and then got comfy in one of the beds in one of the wards. Spent several hours sleeping, and roaming around the hallways whenever he wasn’t being closely watched. Nobody treated him where he was, which he was glad of, as he wanted to be left alone. But nothing came to mind, and he couldn’t find anything significant. Mostly he just sat, or lied in bed, staring up at the ceiling or at the wall. Perhaps he didn’t make much of an effort. He just hoped that something would come to him, or that he would go fetch the TARDIS whenever he felt like it. Say then that he had made a good effort.

Finally, the next day, somebody came to him--a hospital administrator, or a doctor dressed up in a suit, with a bunch of interns in his groups, giving them lessons in making the rounds. He talked it up a bit, tried to make light of his condition, ‘severe abdominal pains’--apparently, if he had had this condition for real, he might have died in this ward without anybody treating him properly.

One of the interns had the good grace to check up on him, as per the doctor’s orders, grabbing a stethoscope as another one took notes. What a strange thing, he thought to himself, smirking as he thought that she was pretty, but then she said something about seeing him running around outside. Really? What a strange thing, he thought to himself again, but he was still confused as to what she meant.

Might make more sense if it was his future self, but he had told himself that he would leave Earth, and never come back again. “On Chancellor Street this morning,” She said, “You took your tie off.”

He must remember that, he thought, if he ever were to do such a thing, although he doubted it. He tried to deny it, but then she checked his heart--heartbeats, she was good, how had she--she must have noticed the faster rate of beating, perhaps caught an echo of the other heart while checking the first. Did she know something?

She looked scared, frightened of him, and he just winked at her.

“I weep for future generations.” The doctor said. “Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?” He said as the intern slowly retreated from the Doctor—Miss Jones, he thought to himself, staring up at her and raising an eyebrow.

She just tried to laugh and shrug it off, make an excuse. Still trying to reason with herself, perhaps. She seemed scared, the Doctor thought to himself, wondering if there was something more about her. Perhaps he would find out more. Static electricity--that was new. He thought about it, listening to their comments, and realized that something was happening—something that even he had not realized fully, just lying here. He was getting lazy.

The other doctor was just making an excuse, saying it was lightning storm, and such, but he knew that it was not. And then the other doctor tried to make a pop quiz out of electricity, and he answered it. What a teacher. The other doctor moved on, quite perturbed, but Miss. Jones turned back and smiled at him as he smiled at her—what a gorgeous young woman, he thought to himself. I like her even if she does seem a little bit odd, but I’m odd myself.

He felt excited. He got out of bed, put on his bathrobe, and decided to explore some more, as if that whole experience had perked him up a little bit more. What fun we might have, he thought to himself.

He wandered down the hallway, exploring the ward he was in, and heard a familiar voice--cloud over his head, he thought to himself for some reason—and turned his head to stare at Miss. Jones, whose smile had faded--she was talking on the mobile phone to someone. He quickly turned and strode off, hoping that she would not follow after him. She was spooked, he thought. Something strange was definitely going on around here.

The rain was falling—no, rising, he realized, as he had just about enough time to get himself settled down somewhere before the big storm unleashed itself. He turned back to the ward once everything had settled down, but people were starting to panic as they realized that they were on the moon.

We’re on the moon, he thought to himself, and what a great time to park the TARDIS right in front of the hospital instead of inside it, yeah?

People were shocked, and then screaming and yelling--pipe down, he wanted to yell at everybody, the TARDIS was trapped down there on Earth where he couldn’t get at it, and yell at it for bringing him here in the first. But then Miss. Jones arrived on the scene.

He was about to get up and make an announcement, say that he was the Doctor and everything, but then she tried to come in and settle everybody else back down, make sure that they were all well aware that everything was under control. Control? He thought to himself.

They were on the moon, and ‘we’ll sort it out’? “Not bloody likely.” He said to himself, closing the curtain to change back into his regular clothes. “Don’t worry--plenty to worry about, but no need to panic.” He said, taking off his hospital gown and putting on his new suit.

Miss. Jones was saying it was real, her fried was telling her not to open the window--but Miss. Jones realized that the windows were useless. “Clever girl,” He said. “I could use her.”

“Very good point!” He exclaimed. “Brilliant, in fact. What was your name?”

“Martha.”

“And it was Jones, wasn’t it?” His eyes shining as he realized—‘Martha My Dear’ was written for her. And then he launched right into it, without wasting any time, taking Martha Jones with him when she wasn’t afraid, or at least not scared enough to be overcome with fear.

“Good.” He said. “Come on.” She was unreasonable and reasonable enough. Trepidation she had, but certainly that was healthy, and she left her friend behind to cry when he told her to--she wanted to have an adventure, and catch up with him, follow him around so that she wouldn’t get left behind. She wanted to find out the mystery just as much as he wanted to.

 

 _‘ **To be undone, to be alone/to live life in monotone/I reach the beach and try to ignore/The warning I’d known long before./ On any given day you’ll find me gone./On any given day you’ll find me gone.**_ ’

 

They stepped out onto the veranda, opening the doors together hand-in-hand, and walked out to the edge, staring down at the surface of the moon beside one another. “I’ve got a party tonight.” Martha Jones remarked, looking up at him. “It’s my brother’s 21st. My mother’s gonna be really...” And she stared out at the moon, and Earth in the distance as the stars framed her head; still thinking about Earth upon the moon.

He turned and stared at her instead. “You okay?” He asked. “Yeah.” She said. “You want to go back in?” “No way.” She said. “I mean, we could die any minute, but all the same, it’s beautiful.” Good, he was glad of that--she was still ready to face the world, even though she just needed a moment to recover herself, as did he. She reminded him of Donna and Rose, in a way. Being from London, he supposed. She was smiling.

“Standing in the Earth light.” He said to himself, leaning on the rail. He had to take it in as well. Martha Jones was ready to ask questions, and he asked back, waiting to hear her explanation. Extraterrestrials, she knew what had been happening even though Donna hadn’t. She hit it right on the dot, naturally, even though he couldn’t quite figure out just who or why at the moment.

She had a story--he heard her, and realized where he had seen her before. Martha Jones had a cousin, Adeola, and the resemblance was uncanny--he remembered her cousin, who had been taken over by one of the Cybermen, and killed, had actually let them inside this universe. Poor Adeola...poor Martha Jones, knowing what had happened. “I’m sorry,” He said, apologizing when he knew that it was his own fault, in a way.

He couldn’t save Adeola.

And he tried to tell her a little, but not enough, when he couldn’t even speak, thinking about what had happened to him and Rose. And she shrugged it off, trying to forget and move on with what had happened to her.

“I promise you, Mr. Smith, we will find a way out.” He frowned to himself, wishing that she had not interrupted his thoughts, but then he decided that it was for the best. He was sinking towards melancholy again, but now that she had awaken him—awaken him to fight again, he was ready to move on, past Mr. Smith, towards action.

“I’m not Mr. Smith, by the way,” He said—“I’m the Doctor.” when she asked.

“Me too, if I can pass my exams.” And in a roundabout way, she said, “Far as I’m concerned, you’ve got to earn that title.” And he was surprised by what she had to say, but in a way, she had been trying her whole life, or at least for a very long time, to earn that title for herself--and so he would have to earn it, too, for her to appreciate him. All right—two can play at that game.

“Well, I’d better make a start, then. Let’s have a look.” He said.

 

‘ ** _I’ve been down to the sea./ I’ve been down to the sea./And so all of the lovers will say/Forever star-crossed will we stay./Still I can’t help feeling castaway/On any given day./Still I can’t help feeling you’ll run away/On any given day._** ’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? More to come, probably two parts, hopefully it won't be six parts like The Runaway Bride. More soon! (Don't know about 11 and River making an appearance again--maybe. I had an idea or two, might continue on with it, but a little weird.


	9. Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judoon platoon on the moon. And Martha Jones gets an education, as they run out of air. (Continuation of 'On Any Given Day' song by Carbon Leaf, and 'Smith and Jones')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are--might add more to the story, wanted to put this lot in, you might say. Pretty good.

**  
Chapter Nine: Air   
**

He threw a rock, and it hit a forcefield, bouncing off back at them.

“Watch it!” Martha Jones cried, jumping out of the way.

“Sorry,” He said, “But this proves it--it’s a forcefield, a giant bubble surrounding us, no way of getting in or out without the proper authority. We are sustained like this, it protected us on the trip from the Earth to the moon. It kept the Earth air in.”

“But wait a minute,” Martha Jones said, “What if that’s the only air we got, the air we came with inside this forcefield? What happens if we run out of that air?”

“Ah.” He said. “Then, how many people are inside this hospital?”

“About a thousand.”

“A thousand people suffocating...” He said, shuddering inside with a grimace, he hated that thought.

“Who would do such a thing?” She asked.

“Heads up, ask him yourself!” He cried when three giant spaceships hovered over the hospital, and they stood far below on the tiny little balcony, staring up at the blue gas engines lights of those ships, which he recognized as Galactic 4 Star Cruisers. They could have been burnt to smithereens if that forcefield hadn’t protected them, that’s how powerful both were. A lot of engine power, and the effort needed to bring this entire hospital from the Earth to the moon—what could have caused this? He asked himself as the spaceships landed on the ground just beyond, the moon field looking towards the Earth, tall skyscrapers like hostile monoliths facing the hospital. He stared as the ramps fell down, and then troop after troop of—“Judoon” He growled to himself--marched out, about 240 of them if not more.

He shook his head, 240 Judoon against mostly a thousand people who were sick, dying, or injured in some way--some of the Judoon, about 100 of them or so, would spread out around the hospital, he knew, just to make sure that none of the humans found a way out on their own, although why would anyone, with any decent sense of mind, would want to leave this hospital and step out onto the barren, breathless surface of the moon? And what about the Judoon and their masks and the spaceships—didn’t they have some air they could spare for the Earthlings?

“Come on,” He said to Martha, leading her back inside. “We’ve got to see what they’re up to.”

“Real live proper aliens,” She repeated again.

“Don’t lose yourself, to me, now!” The Doctor said, facing her. “We’ve got to be ready, for whatever we’re up against. We’ve got to be ready to face it, to handle any sort of trouble. We need our minds, Martha, we need to think straight!”

She nodded, and followed him.

 

***

It was just an ordinary day. She was enjoying herself, going to work, even with all of the fighting going on between her family members. She was just stuck in the middle, as per usual, trying to solve the crisis and mediate a solution that would satisfy everyone. This was not a big problem, just a small problem, and—it was strange, what happened in the middle of the sidewalk, with that man who was not the Doctor, apparently, stepping out in front of her and undoing his tie, but she just shrugged it off, confused and bewildered certainly, but she just tried to forget about it. But then there were those motorcyclists—that man again—and the rain that seemed to have transported them here...

This was not an ordinary day. And she was scared, but she tried to hide it, those dark thoughts that would overwhelm her if she allowed them to take control.

“You’re not an alien,” She said, “Don’t be ridiculous. Why are you looking at me like that? Stop smiling.” She said a moment later.

 

***

“Bo, Sco, Do, No, Kro, Blo, Co, Sho, Ro...” The main Judoon was saying.

“You’ve got a little shop. I like a little shop.” He said, watching what was happening with all of the people screaming as the Judoon proceeded to catalogue all of them, but he did not pay any mind to what was happening when he realized that the Judoon were just searching. Stop screaming, he wanted to shout at them.

“Doc—Mr. Smith.” Martha Jones said. “Can’t you see what is happening here?”

“All right, but don’t take things too seriously sometimes. Sometimes, even in the most scariest of situations, you need to keep a level head, and see what’s all around you. Stop screaming,” He muttered the last bit at the people instead.

He was in the middle of a hospital, full of dead and dying things, including flowers--what sort of thing was that to bring into a hospital? Just the sort of things humans would do to cheer themselves, and their friends and family members, bringing flowers and cards into the hospital, or buying them at the little shop down below--‘get well’, ‘season’s greetings’, ‘hello’, ‘happy birthday’, or 'I love you' cards down at the little shop--that’s why he liked it, he supposed.

 

 **  
_‘I window shop for you in my mind/A flannel shirt at the five and dime/A leather coat cut big city style/Boots from plastic crocodile/A pinecone dipped in glitter glue/A penny 1942/A necklace with a cheap green stone/Barefoot, cold sand, chill to the bone.’_   
**

 

He shuddered. He explained to her what the Judoon were, police-for-hire interplanetary thugs, and how as well as why they were on the moon. She did not believe him, when he said he was not human. The Judoon were spreading their search—they had to move.

He had to move. They ran, staying ahead of the search, towards—a computer. Why hadn’t he thought of doing this before, a search through the medical files? But now it was too late, the Judoon had blocked access to everything! Stupid rhino-headed fools!

The Doctor tried to explain the sonic screwdriver, and she brought up the sore point of his laser spanner—cheeky woman. “Judoon platoon upon the moon,” He told her what he was doing here. The plasma coils, the Judoon—or whoever had hired them, most likely the galactic Shadow Proclamation—had been planning this for days. Why this hospital? He had to get inside, but never had he tried—not as much as he did now—to find out what was going on here. Stupid Doctor.

“Like me, but not me, a shape changer,” He said. The Judoon were cleverer than he was, stupid, but still they had not found anything, or anyone, because they had not even tried before now—just like him.

Judoon used stupid, scary, brutish tactics. They didn’t know any better, he thought. He continued his search, trying to fix up the computer, as Marth Jones went to ask Mr. Stoker—unusual name, probably that man from earlier who had been leading her and all of the other interns—if he knew anything about unusual symptoms from patients.

He restored the backup, went out to find her, and bumped into Martha—apparently being chased by whoever was responsible for this, the culprit they were all after. He grabbed her hand, and they ran, chased by some strange creature in a motorcyclist’s helmet and leather suit, nearly meeting up with a Judoon platoon upon the stairs—what a hectic day.

 

***

They went down a level through deserted corridors with ceiling panels pried up, this whole hospital was falling apart after the ride up to the moon, or else it had been like this even before he got here. He led her and their pursuer, knowing this hospital like the back of his hand after getting acquainted with every single little place--except for the little shop—to the x-ray department.

He fixed up the machine, and she worked it—good team—to fry that other fellow dead. He hated to do that, but at least that was over with. Just had to get the radiation out of him. After all of that, he lost his two good shoes—they were great shoes, too. Wearing only one of a kind made him look daft. And she called him completely mad, too—one of a kind.

He was barefoot on the moon, but he did not mind. He had figured out, though, that the thing was a Slab after it knocked that door down, and chased them through all of those corridors with speed that could not be matched by an ordinary human, especially one in leather gear—solid leather, apparently, wearing a helmet. He had only killed the drone, though, not another being, but still he felt a little bit bad.

Martha told him what she had seen. And he had lost his sonic screwdriver—my sonic screwdriver, stupid radiation, he had lost a lot of things today.

And she called him Doctor! Score one for him, he smiled at her. Miss. Finnegan was the alien, apparently, drinking Mr. Stoker’s blood like a vampire—with a straw. Showed a lot of forethought and consideration from her, though, for the sake of convenience to be so armed.

He had to think this through. Internal shape-changer, she needed that blood to appear human to the Sontaran--Judoon scanners. For a thought, he had thought of them as Sontaran, because they seemed so similar with their military or martial law. The Judoon’s low-level scans would never be able to detect that. He had to change tactics, reveal the alien to them, that way they would be able to go.

 

***

Martha and the Doctor hid from the other Slab as she asked him about backup—no backup here; not now. He tried to dissuade her.

“I like that, ‘humans’! Still not convinced you’re an alien.” She said.

And he stepped out right into the middle of a Judoon scanner. “Non-human.”

“Oh my god, you really are.” She said.

“And again!” He cried as they ran.

“You’re an alien, a real live alien, and how can I trust you!” She cried.

“Martha--”

“You said they were looking--” She stopped. “You were at Canary Wharf.” She said. “You said--”

“I wasn’t on the Dalek side, nor was I on the Cybusmen side,” He said. “I was on your side, the human side. I wanted to keep them out of here, but then Torchwood was experimenting. Your--sister--"

“Cousin!” She said.

“Adeola was there. I remember her.” He said. “She was taken over by one of the Cybusmen. She died before her body did.” He told her.

“Oh my god...” She said, as he went on to explain the Judoon were logical, but thick. They were running out of air—not enough to run or talk with for long. She led him to Mr. Stoker’s office, where she closed the old man’s eyes after he checked the body. Miss Finnegan had completely drained him of blood—she was a Plasmavore. What was she doing? Why was she still hiding? He was used to death, but not Martha Jones—not yet, anyway. But she was planning on being a doctor—had to get used to it, still. She was sensible about it, at least.

He realized what Miss. Finnegan had planned, and he knew what he had to do. The Judoon were approaching, and he had to stall them, but he didn’t know what else to do--except kiss Miss Martha Jones.

“Forgive me for this, but it could save a thousand lives and it means nothing. Honestly, nothing.” He said. Yet he still enjoyed it, for she was a good kisser like him, and it was one last kiss—before he went.

 

 **  
_‘On any given day you’ll find me gone./On any given day you’ll find me gone.’_   
**

 

***

He had to find Miss Finnegan, and play the fool for her, “Great big grubby space rhino things with guns, and we’re on the moon!” so that she would be fooled. “I only came in for my bunions, look!” He cried. Perfect human, he hammed it up quite a bit.

He was still slightly stunned himself. But it had been necessary, he had needed to put the Judoon off of his trail, just for a little while. Martha Jones would not be harmed, no, not if she kept her head, and he knew her to be a rational woman. She had coped well enough with ending up on the moon, after all, and she had reasoned out what was happening on her own sometimes.

He had not wanted Martha Jones to stop him. He could feel the oxygen draining away, light-headed as he felt the vacuum of space pressing against the force field. He didn't know what to think anymore.

He managed to find out what destruction Miss Finnegan planned to wrought, asked as innocently as a human would ‘what was going on’. (How come Miss Finnegan needed to kill Mr. Stoker for blood when the blood bank was downstairs? Probably she needed as much fresh, living, breathing human blood as soon as possible to keep herself safe—convenient.) And then, as naively as he could manage, when he saw her hand, let slip the news that the Judoon were now intent on secondary scans. Clever.

“I’ve got my little straw.” She said. Miss Finnegan was a survivor, who preyed on the old, young, and weak for her own ends. And when she approached him with that ‘little’ straw of hers…he was nervous.

“You’re quite the funny man. And yet, I think, laughing on purpose at the darkness.” She said. “I think it’s time you found some peace.”

“The dead don’t tend to remember.” She said a moment later.

He grimaced as it was jammed into his neck, and then his eyes glazed over as she began to suck. What was oxygen loss? Nothing compared to this slow, excruciating drain, as he blanked out...

 

 _Martha. Rose._

 

 **  
_‘I’ve been down to the sea./I’ve been down to the sea./And so all of the lovers will say/Forever star-crossed will we stay/Still I can’t help feeling castaway/On any given day/Still I can’t help feeling you’ll run away/On any given--’_   
**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this.


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